The Moonlight War
by BoredOneNight
Summary: "Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." - Norman Cousins. AU. Luna/OC centered, focuses also on the Trio and a few others. Completed at 125 chapters, being posted over time.
1. Chapter 1: Midnight Exercise

**AN: An author's note is necessary here at the beginning to explain a few things before you begin reading. First, I think it's important for the reader to know that this story is - for the most part - complete. It totals 124 chapters, plus an epilogue. Revisions are being done on the fly as chapters are posted, but the story is finished. This is my first posting on this site, but not my first posting of this story. It was started in late 2008 and just finished recently, so about five years of work has gone into it. Granted, the opening few chapters are a little rough, as they were written by a fifteen year old (again, being revised) but the story was at one time very popular on another fanfiction site. I ended up leaving that site, with about 75 chapters published on it at the time. But after a hiatus, I'm back, with the story finished and a desire to get back into reading and writing. So if you'd like me to read your story, I'm always looking for recommendations, just let me know in whatever way you can (I'm still getting used to the site.) Anyway, a few things to note for this story. I take a lot of liberty with Rowling's work. I love the Harry Potter series (obviously) but a few rules and such of the world have been changed to help the story operate better as tale of a full scale war in the Wizarding World. The three things to know going in are 1) The story begins during the summer between Harry's 5th and 6th year, 2) Unforgivable Curses can be fought off and evaded more easily than canon, and 3) Luna's birthdate is changed to put her a year above Harry, instead of bellow. It was necessary to make the timeline work. Well that's about it I think, probably the longest author's note I've ever written, but now the information is there and you can enjoy 123 more chapters without interruption. Thanks very much for reading, and enjoy! Also, if anyone from the other site remembers me, give me a shout out, I'd love to hear from you!**

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_"Legends die hard. They survive as truth rarely does." - Helen Hayes_

**Chapter 1: Midnight Exercise**

Michael Jacobs sprinted through the forest, trying to keep as quiet as he could. His mind buzzed louder in his head than the insects did around him, distracting him to point of almost total unawareness. A thousand thoughts clouded a mind he knew he needed to keep clear for his mission, but it was useless. The threat of attack coming from any direction wasn't enough to derail his train of thought; it steamed resolutely along towards its destination of more questions and angry thoughts.

"Damn!"

Michael's internal groaning came to an abrupt end as he tripped over a large root jetting out from a nearby tree. He immediately froze on the ground and listened.

He was not enjoying his little midnight jog through the forest as it was, and while dueling with a Death Eater might add some excitement, he was horribly tired and – like he had heard many girls tell him – just not in the mood.

Convinced no one had heard him, he brushed himself off and stood back up. Michael supposed not being terribly tall was helpful for a sneaking mission like this, though he stood a respectable height. He ran his right hand quickly back and forth through his dark brown hair, clearing out any lingering dirt.

"Right…" Michael muttered to himself, his face red. "No one saw that. No friends, so I'm not humiliated, no Death Eaters, so I'm not dead. Excellent." He took off again, now glad he put more effort in his conditioning than his fellow Wizards. The trees became less dense as he continued, until the forest faded away around him and revealed his quarry. A tower stood against the natural backdrop, as tall as any of the trees and from what Michael had been told, older than any of them as well.

Michael trusted the night to hide him and crossed the remaining distance until he was right up against the building. Looking closer, Michael was struck by two things. First, the entire tower seemed to be sculpted out of a single piece of stone, not many stacked together. Second, the shape and stature of the building caused his heart to jump up against his ribcage. He had seen a building very similar to this recently, and even this imitation of it made Michael uneasy. But that was not for now.

Michael needed a plan. If his information was accurate, and it usually was, the building was three floors total and was home to about ten Death Eaters, at least as of three days ago. The first was living quarters for the Death Eaters stationed there, the second was made of two rooms, one was a training room for dueling practice, and the other was a meeting room.

Michael guessed the third floor was probably the best guarded, as that was where the stone was. All three floors, plus the roof, were connected by wooden ladders, making it difficult to move from floor to floor quickly.

He sighed and shook his head. He would've preferred a little help for this. Not much, of course, no one to get in his way…but a few of his friends might've been a boon here. But they were on break, and he was on call. And somehow, Michael always got these kinds of calls. Experience had taught him – painfully – that he was neither the most intelligent nor the most powerful Wizard to be had, though he was working on that. In the end, Michael usually got the job done, and that was all STRIKE command ever asked of him.

This reputation had begun early in his career with STRIKE and he had enjoyed it at the beginning; the prestige had helped revive him from a deep depression. Yet as time passed, no amount of praise or promotions could obscure the truth from Michael. He was no great Wizard, a better fighter than a leader, and past those imperfections, questions more personal than professional plagued him.

Michael intended to see them put to rest, and these truthful assessments to become lies. He would become the greatest Wizard STRIKE had to offer. He would take charge of his situation. Michael's wand spluttered out a few sparks as he renewed his promise to move forward, into a better life. The mission would be the start of that. Michael shook his head again and took stock.

Yes he was an unusually gifted wizard, but he could not fight an entire war himself. He _was_ only human after all. He backed up a little off the wall to check the roof for any guards, not seeing anyone, he considered his options. It was late; most Death Eaters would probably be asleep.

Yes, that was where he would start. If he could get into their rooms and silently Stun them, it would be a lot less work once they realized he was there. Then another option came to mind, one Mad-Eye Moody would have heartily approved of. They were dangerous Death Eaters; they killed and tortured for fun, but could he… He had killed before, obviously, it was part of his job.

He hated the Death Eaters, after all they had taken from him they deserved to die, and if they attacked he would kill them, with none too much regret. But murdering them in their beds...that was completely different. Michael stood, pressed against the building, rain pounding his head, for a full minute.

The phrase "_The Greater Good_" flashed through his mind more than once. Finally he made his decision. He would Stun anyone asleep, do his job, then come back tomorrow with a full squad and arrest the Death Eaters.

It was likely, he knew, that most of them would fight, and probably be killed, but at least he'd be able to sleep tonight.

The door was made of wood, easily destroyed, however Michael simply unlocked it with a whispered, "_Alohamora"_ and walked in, hearing his steps as if they were boulders falling. He looked around, watching for any lookouts or traps, but saw none.

He was standing in a large room with a stone floor, a few couches and chairs, a bookshelf against a wall, about six doors, and a fireplace against another wall. He turned to a door at random when he realized what was wrong. There was still a fire in the fireplace. He froze.

Everyone should be asleep. There wouldn't still be a fire in the fireplace unless -

He was just about to creep through the door closest to his left when Rowle pushed through it, still wearing his Death Eater robes and holding a glass of gin. They looked at each other for a full three seconds before the glass shattered on the floor as both drew their wands and fired their curses.

Rowle was hit square in the face by the Stunner while Michael deflected Rowle's Killing Curse, with a sweep of his wand, blowing a large hole in the wall and no doubt waking every Death Eater in the building.

Michael had just enough time to get a growled "Shit!" out through his clenched teeth as five more Death Eater, these in their night clothes, though all with their wands out burst through another door. Michael yelled "_Protego_!"Just in time for the invisible shield to erupt and take the force of the five curses, two of them being Unforgivable. The last two powered through the shimmering wall, barely missing Michael.

"Why not stealth?" was Michael's immediate thought. He dove behind the elegant sofa, just avoiding another curse. He slapped himself across the face. Of _course _an Invisibility Cloak, even a Disillusionment Charm would've saved him trouble here. He gave his wand a jerk and jabbed it into the stuffing in the back of the sofa. If he just hadn't been so _preoccupied _with _her _– Michael muttered "_Dyanmo_!" under his breath – he wouldn't have to fight these bastards!

"Scared, Jacobs?" called on of the Death Eaters. Considering whether he should be proud or terrified they knew his name, Michael withdrew his wand from the now glowing sofa and made a sweeping motion with his right arm across his body, jerking his shoulder in its socket with the effort.

The effect was worth it though, as the seat slid forward across the ground at the Dark Wizards, its four short legs shrieking as they scratched the floor. The flying furniture caught two of the Death Eaters, who doubled over it, the air knocked out of them. In the next moment Michael had pulled himself to his feet to run for the exit and the Death Eaters had taken aim at them. A second later, the room was full of wooden shrapnel and burning cloth as the sofa exploded like a bomb. The two Death Eaters who had – unwillingly – thrown themselves on the live bomb took the brunt of the explosion. They were dead before anyone had realized what had happened.

The three Death Eaters who survived looked up just in time to see Michael sprint through a door and race up the wooden ladder leading to the second floor. He rolled left the second he reached the top of the ladder, narrowly avoiding losing an arm to _Sectumsempra_, he fired a random Blasting Curse in the direction the spell had come from, and judging by the following scream, it hit somebody.

The spell had come from the left, so he ran full speed to his right, which took him down a long hallway and making him devotedly hope there was no one left behind him because if someone fired a curse down that hallway, he was as good as dead.

To his relief, he reached a wooden door, through it open shut it behind him, and sealed it with a locking spell. Panting he bent over with his hands on his knees, and looked up. Then he realized his problem.

Apparently four Death Eaters had chosen this room to lurk in, and he found himself in the middle of a semi-circle of Death Eaters, his back to the door he had just locked so thoroughly. His wand was shot out of his hand even as he raised it to the Death Eater directly in front of him.

It flew off into the darkness and he heard it hit somewhere far away. Scowling, he looked at his captors. They were all in their trademark black robes, half also in hoods.

As he raised his hands in surrender, the Death Eater in front of him removed her hood. Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him, her wand pointed at his chest and a triumphant smile on her evil face. She waited until the other Death Eaters removed their hoods before speaking. A bitter taste of fury and hatred washed around in Michael's mouth at the sight of her. But he knew he had to keep the anger in check, or he would never escape alive….

"So, little boy, what brings you here tonight?" she taunted, still with her evil smile. Michael glanced around before answering, he recognized a few; Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott; this wouldn't be easy.

"Well I definitely didn't come to see if you're as easy to bed as I hear, I like women you see." He needed to stall but knew he was asking for a beating if he kept on like this. "Hey, I don't suppose Draco Malfoy is here, is he?" he added in a mock hopeful voice.

"If the things I hear about him are true, he has a certain feminine air to him, one that _you_ however, lack," he finished with a smirk he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep. He braced himself for the Cruciatus Curse, but was shocked, actually more unnerved, when Bellatrix simply smiled.

"As easy as you hear, hmmm? Now who could have told you that…? Surely not your old friend, hmmm? Did Owen tell you that?" She had taken a step closer to Michael, who had unconsciously dropped his hands to his sides. His right hand scratched furiously at his pantleg. If only he had a wand….

Bella shook her head. "It's too bad about the boy. But you know, Michael Jacobs, he was better as my _partner_ than yours…." She waited, daring Michael to attack. At this point Michael actually shut his eyes for a moment. It was all he could do to stay calm. Bellatrix retreated back a couple steps, looking disappointed. "No, my dear nephew isn't here right now, but don't worry, we certainly will have a guest."

"_Damn it,_" Michael thought, "_I need to concentrate, listening to her talk is just about as bad as Vo_l-"

The Dark Lord," she finished grandly.

Michael felt his smirk fall for the first time. He barely noticed Bellatrix taunting him again.

"Aww, are you scared, little boy?" She leaned closer and he could smell strong perfume as she whispered "Don't worry, you might not even know what's happening to you by the time my master gets, here. Then again, I doubt you'll crack by then...it will be fun to find out though." He really hoped she didn't hear the mutter he added.

"So why _are _you here then?" Bella asked again, twirling her wand around her fingers. She rolled it over her index finger with her thumb, then returned it to safety in her palm.

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "Archeology project," he finally muttered. Bellatrix laughed at that, though Michael didn't think she really found it that funny.

"So you _are _here for the stone?" she asked.

"I might be," Michael eluded her, "let me ask you something – before you kill me – why are _you_out here?"

Bellatrix seemed genuinely confused at that. "The Dark Lord has placed us here to guard this stone," she said slowly. "Are you too stupid to understand that, Mudblood?"

"No, I understand guard duty just fine," Michael shot back. "But I don't understand why you're guarding it here? You found it here, right? Why not take it back to Voldemort and give it to him."

"How do you know that's not what we've done?" crowed one Death Eater.

"Because," Michael said irritably, "the damn stone is _here_. It doesn't make any sense if Voldemort wants it and its here and – oh shit Voldemort's living here, isn't he?" His eyes widened as the realization crushed him.

Bellatrix's grin couldn't have been wider. "The Dark Lord does have quarters here Jacobs. Welcome to our trap. He's taken up residence here to study to stone, evade the Aurors, and yes, corner you boy. He's away at the moment, but he knows you're here…he'll join us shortly."

Michael's brain processed about fifty emotions at once, the primary one being anger, grief and disappointment close behind. Not long ago, he would've welcomed a shot at the Dark Lord – though preferably with his wand – but now things had changed. Michael had learned things recently he refused to take to his grave. Michael had been saved by a new purpose in life, and he couldn't allow that life to end here, at Voldemort's hands.

She smiled one last time before stepping back, pointing her wand at Michael's determined face and saying, almost with love in her voice, _Cruci –_ ah!" for Michael slammed into Dolohov, knocking him into a wall and avoiding Bellatrix's curse.

Michael wrestled Dolohov's wand away from him and quickly pointed it at him, holding it to his throat. Dolohov was up against the wall, Michael keeping him pressed there with his own wand. The other Death Eaters were watching with their wands pointed at him.

"Drop 'em," Michael commanded, his back still to the Death Eaters. "Your wands, on the floor."

"His life for yours?" Bella asked playfully, and Michael knew she was smiling, "Do you really think the Dark Lord would not trade?"

Michael sneezed suddenly, wiping his nose with his left hand. Dolohov looked furious as Michael sneezed on him, but then Michael reajusted his wand and his expression cleared.

"Sorry," he said casually. "Bit of a cold." He sighed. Taking his time, he released Dolohov, returned his wand to him, and turned around, his hands in the air. "Fine, fine... You got me."

"That wasn't much of a fight," one of the Death Eaters sneered. But Bellatrix wasn't smiling any longer.

"No... no it wasn't," she said slowly. "I don't know what you're planning, Jacobs, but you won't have time for it." She pointed her wand at him. "_Avada Ke -"_

"_STUPEFY_!" Dolohov bellowed.

Time seemed to slow down as curses shot everywhere, some at Michael, some at Dolohov, and some at the other Death Eaters. He hit the ground to avoid the many spells, rolled onto his feet, trusting the darkness to hide him, ducked down and ran towards the direction his wand had gone. It had worked.

He still couldn't believe it, he actually managed to pass of the Imperius Curse as a sneeze...Quick thinking for a man who never graduated school, Michael thought to himself.

He ducked farther down as more curses shot at him; apparently they were done with Dolohov. Then he saw his wand, and could it be more perfect, it was lying at the bottom rung of a wooden ladder he knew would take him to his objective. He nearly flew up the ladder, pushed open the trapdoor above his head, and prayed he wasn't about to be caught in a second trap.

He climbed the top rung stood up, kicked the door shut, and performed the same locking spell he had trapped himself with earlier. He looked around. The room was thankfully empty of people who wanted him dead in the most painful way possible. He relaxed a bit, knowing his lock would last a long time, though not forever.

This room was lit by candles all around the room. The candles, strangely, did not seem to be melting down, they simply burned. Glancing around he realized he was at the far end of the room, with a dark red carpet down the middle, with tall pillars on either side of it, on which the candles were burning.

At the end of the carpet was what Michael took for nothing more than a large stone block, but he now realized seemed to project a kind of aura, above which, a stone tablet was floating apparently unsupported.

"A rock floating by itself," Michael muttered, shaking his head. "How do I miss these things?"

He walked over to the stone block, looking around for traps as he did. When he reached the slab, he took out his wand and muttered _Specialas Revilio_. If experience had taught him anything, it was that you don't just go around grabbing floating stone tablets. When his spell showed him no immediate danger, he gingerly reached out his left hand – just in case – and grabbed the tablet.

It seemed not to want to move, but that was easily solved. Stepping back and pointing his wand at the stone he said "_Accio Stone_". It immediately flew into his hands along with the thought, "Why didn't I just do that in the first place?"

The stone was about a foot wide and a foot and a half long, and covered in some kind of writing Michael couldn't read.

He thought it might be Runes, but couldn't ponder the stone any longer as he heard a number of spells hit the trapdoor under him. His eyes snapped to the ladder in a corner, which he assumed led to the roof. He ran towards it, tucking the stone under his arm. He climbed the ladder, pushed open the door and stood up, feeling the wind and rain on his face. Then he felt something else.

It was pain beyond pain, as if he was being stabbed by a thousand hot knives. He fell to the ground and his wand rolled away. He heard laughter and felt the curse lift. He staggered to his feet and saw his attacker. Apparently, Alecto Carrow had decided to wait on the roof for him.

He cursed, himself, Voldemort, and the anti-Apparation wards on the building. Carrow laughed as the door leading to the roof burst open and three more Death Eaters including, he was surprised to see, Dolohov, poured onto the roof.

He quickly back away, as far as he could get from them, until he felt the cold rock of the rampart on his back. He looked down, he was at least thirty feet up, so, which would he rather have kill him, Death Eaters or gravity?

The Death Eater's mad laughter filled his ears. There was really no way out of this one, trapped on a small roof, thirty feet up, wandless, and with eleven angry Death Eaters, all of which were certainly not wandless. One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, and Michael saw that it was Dolohov, who had a rather lot of blood in his hair, and which was still flowing from a crack in his skull.

He had no idiotic sneer on his face, only hatred and determination as he pointed his wand at Michael and said "No more screwing around. We are not going to screw this up again. You're going to die in the next thirty seconds, Jacobs." When Michael's face showed no emotion, namely the fear he expected, he sighed, "Any last words?"

Michael looked him straight in the face as he answered. "Can you just tell me what time it is? I always hoped I would die at midnight. It's just… such a peaceful time."

Dolohov kept his wand pointed at Michael as he looked at his watch. "You really are strange Jacobs, but you're too late, it just turned one thirty."

Michael looked up to the sky then turned his face back to Dolohov, careful to keep the false his look of resignation on his face. "Thank you. I guess it's time then." Without wasting anymore time, Dolohov pointed his wand at Michael.

"_Avada -"_but stopped as Michael dropped to the ground.

Thinking one of his mates had killed him before he could, he turned away from Michael to towards his allies, only to see the looks of terror in their faces. Frowning he turned back towards Michael.

"What the hell's your prob-" but was cut off as he saw what had horrified the others. Five Wizards straddling broomsticks had just become visible, all of them wearing a suit of something resembling plate mail like old knights had worn, painted jet black and with breaks in the armor at the joints to allow flexibility. Each STRIKE agent's head was hidden in a helmet rounded in the back, coming to a generic molded face impression in the front, with the eyes lit up in a glowing green. Before the Death Eaters could react, the STRIKE team opened fire, their spells tearing through the Death Eaters. Dolohov fought the hardest, managing to hit one of the agents in the arm with some kind of purple curse Michael wasn't familiar with. Though the agent dropped his arm and laid it across his broomstick, he managed to hold on and remain airborne.

Michael crawled under the stream of spells and once he was clear, stood up. He stretched out his hand, summoning his wand back to him just as Dolohov fell. Michael panted and addressed his hovering saviors. "We need to go – now."

"You've got the stone?" one of them asked. Michael nodded and gestured with it. The agent who had injured his arm nodded.

"Get on, let's go," he called to Michael. Michael didn't think twice before obeying. Voldemort could be on them at any second. Michael hopped onto the back of the STRIKE agent's broom, and through his exhaustion, he thought he saw one of the others chuckle at him.

"Laugh later, fly now!" Michael snarled at him.

There was a loud explosion beneath them, in the building. "What was that?" asked the man Michael shared a broom with.

"Oh that?" Michael repeated sarcastically. "That's just the _Dark Lord_, most likely with his death army." Several more cracks broke the stunned silence. "Yep, that'll be the death army," Michael confirmed. "Let's go!"

All five brooms spun a hundred and eighty degrees and rocketed off away from the tower, rising high above the tree line. Michael looked back down behind them, but the darkness was too thick to see anything.

"He knows we're here?" one agent called to Michael. A series of green spells flew up past them, exploding in the sky above.

"There's your answer," Michael replied. He shifted in his awkward position. Flying with only one hand and behind another man wasn't exactly how Michael preferred it. "I think we're fine though.

"You think he won't follow?"

"Not if we're quick," Michael said. Everyone nodded in agreement, leaned down, and accelerated. It wasn't until they had flown for five minutes – Michael turned around to watch their backs – that anyone spoke.

"So how are you liking the job?" Michael asked his driver, finally relaxing and turning back around.

"I preferred my old work." His answer was gruff, and he didn't look back at Michael as he spoke. Michael frowned, feeling a little guilty.

"I know you did," Michael assured him. "You'll be able to get back to your friends soon. Just as soon as –"

"As soon as I prove I'm not going to go spill all STRIKE's secrets?"

"Well…yeah," Michael admitted. "I vouched for you, you know! But Staffon likes to play things safe."

The man in front made a skeptical noise through his helmet. "Like making you a Captain?"

Michael actually laughed at loud at that. "Point taken. Maybe the old man's just crazy."

"Ah well…" the man sighed. "It's good to be doing good again, fighting Voldemort again."

"About time you got back to work, I mean you have been asleep for some time," Michael told him.

"I think I earned a bit of a rest, actually," he replied defensively.

"I suppose," Michael replied. He paused. "I saw your cousin tonight, by the way."

"Did you?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah, she had me cornered actually…was getting ready to play her favorite game with me. I convinced one of her friends he was on the wrong side though."

The man was silent for a moment. "Did you kill her?"

"No," Michael said. He didn't mention how much he regretted that fact.

"Good," came his reply. "She's mine."

"Bellatrix has injured a lot of us…" Michael said quietly.

"To be fair, she killed me. Well, nearly."

Michael appreciated that comment and chuckled. "You're not dead yet. You never really were…But I have a question for you about that, actually."

"Do you?"

"Yeah...yeah I do," Michael said slowly. "About that scuffle at the Ministry…."

"What about it?"

"Sirius, tell me about Potter's friends," Michael said in a rush. "Tell me about the girl, the one who didn't get hurt."


	2. Chapter 2: The Believer

The gentle ripple of the water calmed her, like it always did. Something about the unpredictability of the flow of the river gave Luna a sense of peace, just like when she was little. She covered her mouth with a pale hand to suppress a yawn though, typically, no one else was around.

Her legs dangled off Bottom Bridge and her toes touched the water below. Luna leaned back and stared up at the full moon above, bringing the steaming cup of coffee to her mouth again. The other thing that soothed her, a good cup of coffee. She always added a little bit of Gurdyroot, it gave it a slightly bitterer flavor. Her mother had taught her to make it years ago, before she had died in the accident…

That had certainly changed things, Luna thought, nothing was the same after Elysina Lovegood had died. Her father had sold their far away house and they had moved to Britain, supposedly to distance themselves from those painful memories, and so Luna could attend Hogwarts, rather than Salem University. Things were hazy, back then. Or perhaps her memories had only recently become so confused.

But the accident that had taken her mother's life… Luna remembered it so vividly, it haunted her dreams more nights than not. She wondered if that was partially responsible for what people called "Loony" Lovegood, but in truth she didn't really care. She was just curious.

In fact, something had happened recently that had piqued her curiosity quite a bit. It was just after the end of term, after she had fought the Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic with her new friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and the others.

She had just Apparated home to find her father in his upstairs room, reading an older edition of the Quibbler. He jumped up at the sight of her and pulled her into a tight hug, which had made her smile.

He didn't let go of her for several long moments, and before he did, he had whispered the thing she had been trying to understand for the last few weeks: "You've got your mother's courage, honey, please, let that be all you inherited…"

She hadn't said anything about it at the time, and neither had Xenophillius. But after they had had their happy reunion, and she had time to think, she started to wonder what that could possibly mean.

Her mother had been a truly amazing witch, she reflected, all the way up until the end. She had worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and always had Quidditch tickets to the best matches.

Luna loved Quidditch. She never played, though she did try out for Seeker on the Ravenclaw team her first year. She had been disqualified, and laughed at, at tryouts however, when she had given up her pursuit of the Golden Snitch, which was nearly within reach, and diverted her path off the pitch and high into the sky because she was trying to get away from the Wackspurts trying to attach themselves to her.

That had started a lot of rumors about her, that she was insane, or retarded. Once again, she didn't really care, though did feel a bit of jealousy when Cho Chang was made Seeker instead of her next year. She brushed it off and went about her life however, at first trying to meet people with a smile, though it soon became clear that that wouldn't be so easy.

Luna's thoughts turned back to her mother. Her father had warned her about dwelling on her mother, but Luna never really understood why. Yes, it was sad what had happened, but why was it that anytime she brought her up, over dinner or any other time, her father would become uncharacteristically angry?

Never loud or abusive, far from it. Xeno loved his precious Luna, but he simply refused to ever speak about his dead wife to her.

Luna remembered once, when she was nine, her mother coming into her room in the middle of the night. Luna was curled up under the covers, clutching her stuffed Snorkack doll, though the horn was gone, she couldn't quite remember why.

Her mother gently sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of blonde hair from Luna's face, softly calling her name. Luna slowly woke up and stretched with a tiny yawn, smiling up at her mother.

"Mommy?" she had asked, still holding the doll, "What time is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, honey, nothing's wrong," Elysina said soothingly, a slightly trembling smile on her face, "It's just…" she paused, and tired as Luna was, she couldn't miss the tear in her mother's eye, "I love you Luna. Don't ever change anything about yourself, no matter what happens in life, okay?"

Luna nodded, though now she felt fearful. She noticed her mother was wearing a traveling cloak complete with a hood and had her wand drawn.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, sitting up and pulling the Snorkack to her chest.

"Yes, and I'm going to be gone awhile," her mother said, "I have something very important to do, and I have to leave immediately."

"But why do you have to go now?" Luna asked curiously, "Is there a big match coming up?

"Yes, Luna, something big is coming up, and I have to take care of it. I promise, I'll be back as soon as I can be." Luna stared at her mother for a moment, lips parted. Something wasn't right.

"But why do you have to leave now?" Luna asked again. "Can't it wait till morning? I thought you were making waffles tomorrow!"

Elysina chuckled and discreetly wiped the tear from her eye.

"Luna, you are a gift from heaven," she said, smiling. "Whatever happens, whatever anyone tells you, never forget that. I love you so much," she kissed her on the forehead and gently pushed her back into a lying position.

"I love you too Mommy," Luna said automatically, "But don't stay gone too long, okay?" She motioned for her to lean close and she did so, so that Luna could whisper into her ear, "Because Daddy can't cook."

Elysina laughed. "I know he can't, but he tries, so be nice, okay?"

"Okay, if he needs help, I can make some things!' she said brightly, "You taught me how to cook eggs, remember?"

"Yes, honey, I remember," Elysina said. "I have a feeling you'll be making breakfast for your dad a lot soon…"

"I'll take care of him," Luna said seriously, "just come back as soon as you can."

"Sure thing honey," Elysina said, pulling the covers up and tucking her daughter in. "And I'll tell you what, I'll bring you back a present, how's that sound?"

"Great!" Luna said enthusiastically, "What is it?"

Elysina looked deep into Luna's pale eyes for a moment, and then said, "I can't tell you honey, it's part of the surprise."

"Oh, well," Luna said with a little huff, "Bye, Mommy."

"Goodbye, Luna," Elysina said softly, kissing her on the forehead again. "And remember, you are a gift. Never, ever, ever, forget that."

Elysina had left after that and she fell asleep after saying a quick prayer to keep her mother safe. She rolled over and fell back asleep soon, knowing her mother would return, like she always did.

About a week passed, and Luna didn't worry too much about her mother. It was typical of Elysina to have to go on long trips to faraway countries, to book matches or such things. She noticed her father was oddly on edge and irritable, but she supposed that he simply missed his wife like she missed her mother.

Then, after ten whole days, Elysina had Apparated into their kitchen during dinner. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, but just then Luna could barely stomach the sight of her. Her left arm was in a sling and there were a number of cuts and scratches, some looking deep, on her face. She stumbled into the third chair at the dinner table, and sighed.

"Mommy, what happened to you?" Luna asked immediately, before Xeno could say anything. She quickly jumped up to hug her mother. "How did this all happen?" she asked, close to crying. Luna was tough, but seeing her mother like this was more than she could bear.

Elysina shut her eyes, then opened them and quickly glanced at Xenophillius, who was staring wide-eyed at her. She hitched a smile on her face and stood up so that Luna could wrap her arms around her.

"You know I'm not very good on a broom Luna, not like you," Elysina said as Luna squeezed her tightly. "I was in Ireland, organizing a match, you know, and one of the players offered me a ride on her broom. I couldn't resist, but I got a little carried away, and fell."

"You fell off a broom?" Luna asked, as Xeno stood up and pulled a drink out of the refrigerator. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine honey," Elysina said relaxingly, "Your mom's tough, I can take care of myself. Thanks Xeno," she added, taking the Firewhiskey from her husband.

"So you got everything set up?" Xeno asked, embracing his wife as Luna released her. "Things going to go our way?"

Luna didn't really understand the question, but assumed he meant England beating Ireland in the upcoming match.

"I think so," Elysina said, after considering him for a moment. "And speaking of Quidditch, I promised to bring you something, remember Luna?"

"Yeah, I remember!" Luna said excitedly, "You got me something? What is it? Do you have it with you?"

"Well, you said you wanted to play Seeker when you start at Salem in a few years, right?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love to!' Luna said cheerfully, "Did you get me a Snitch to practice with? The one you already got me is great, but a new one never hurts, does it?"

"No, Luna it's not a Snitch," Elysina said quietly, "I think these will help you, though."

She reached into the pocket of her robes with her good arm and pulled out a pair of old looking gloves. Luna took them with a sense of awe. They were made of something leather like, the bottoms were midnight black; the tops of the hand and fingers were a dark blue color.

"Seeker's gloves!" she said breathlessly. "They're beautiful!" She slipped them on and flexed her hands.

"Where did you get those?" Xeno asked, watching as Luna beamed down at her hands.

"Dublin," Elysina told him, "A little shop near the stadium."

"Always so thoughtful," Xeno said with a smile. He kissed his wife quickly on the lips, which Luna didn't notice. She was too busy taking in the good feeling coming over her. She also failed to notice the wink Elysina gave her husband.

Luna still had those gloves, eight years later. They had some sort of charm on them that had caused them to enlarge over the years as she grew, so that they still fit her.

She rarely wore them, only on days she really needed to go right. She had taken them to the Ministry at the end of last year and had been the only one to suffer no real harm, so she found extremely easy to believe that the gloves really did bring luck.

And even if they didn't, so what, Luna thought. They were a reminder of her mother, one of the last things she had to remember her by. That was reason enough to wear them.

She suddenly looked up at the sky. Something had just shot across the dark backdrop, too fast to tell what it was. She turned her head slightly, staring at the spot where the dark mass had been a second ago.

"A Ravenwing?" she asked out loud, to herself. "Hmm, I'll have to ask Dad if they go that fast…"

She sighed and stood up, stretching her arms out wide in the moonlight. Done meditating, she headed back up the winding down road that led back to her house, humming to herself, her radish earrings swinging as she went.


	3. Chapter 3: A Night Off

Jeff Allero placed his hand gently on another patron's shoulder and muttered a quiet "Excuse me," as he pushed past him without making eye contact. He finally reached the bar and smiled at the aging barmaid. "Couple Firewhiskeys?"

The aging barmaid smiled back at him, nodded, and turned around to get the drinks. Meanwhile, Jeff looked over his shoulder and took in the scene.

It was storming outside, the crashes of thunder and lightning making it difficult to hear the person next to you, and yet every now and again he could still make out bits of conversations from the other patrons. Three large men sat at one table, discussing their jobs, which judging by their muttering and complaining, entailed a good deal of heavy lifting.

In a corner were two men and three women, who were constantly looking around the room, a dead giveaway they were involved in something illegal. Jeff didn't mind the storm, not tonight, anyway. It was his night off and he was going to enjoy a drink with his friend without worrying about anybody trying to curse him off the face of the earth. It was a night to forget about the war. He turned back to the bar as the woman handed him his drinks.

"That'll be eight sickles," she told him. The information was unnecessary though, as Jeff had long ago memorized the drink prices at Wanda's. He handed her the coins and sighed as a loud yell came from a table in the corner.

"Hey you trying to get lucky? At least drop off my drink before chatting her up."

Jeff shook his head, "Two drinks and he's off his ass?" But both he and Wanda laughed as he said it.

"At least you know I don't water down my drinks," Wanda sympathized. "Well, go give baby his bottle then."

"Right, thanks."

As he turned and walked away he heard her call, "But I still want to hear about that mission to Taiwan, then maybe you'll get lucky!" He raised the bottle in his right hand in acknowledgement as he crossed the bar to his friend at their table.

Jeff caught a pair of eyes watching him as he walked. He knew he seemed out of place here, but that was how he preferred it. At eighteen, he was significantly younger than most of the other patrons. His youthful face, sandy hair, and lack of three foot beard set him apart from the other Wizards at Wanda's, yet standing out was fine here. He and his friends had chosen this particular spot due to the characters that frequented it, not despite them. Jeff knew several of them were probably contemplating robbing him at this very moment.

But that was fine. They could think whatever they wanted. The important part was that no one ever said anything. It was an unspoken rule – no questions. Jeff, like many of his friends, had a difficult time explaining what he did for a living, as well as the bruises, cuts, burns, and scars that came with the job.

Here, no one asked. No one cared. And that suited the young STRIKE agent just fine.

He sat down across from his friend and handed him his drink. He said, "Thanks" and quickly uncorked it and drained nearly half of it.

Apparently, Kevin Remmer was going to enjoy his night off too. He glanced out the window, at the same time a bolt of lightning illuminated the street outside.

"Man, I'm glad we have tonight off," Kevin muttered. "Death Eaters are bad enough, and I really don't feel like fighting them in a hurricane."

Jeff took a sip of his drink and looked out the window too before saying, "So you think Michael can handle that mission alone, then. You don't think we should have gone?"

Stung, Kevin told him "Well I offered to go to, but he said that he could be stealthier alone and that he would do it himself."

Smiling at hearing the answer he expected he said "Well, if there was one person I would trust to take out a building full of Death Eaters, steal some stone, then get away with it, it would be him…unless he breaks his damn collarbone again, the jackass."

Sitting down his now empty bottle, Kevin asked "So do you actually know what this stone does then? I've heard a bunch of rumors, but I don't know what to believe, and Michael didn't tell me before he left. It was odd, he usually tells us about his missions before he leaves. Well, at least the ones where _we_ aren't running the risk of coming home in pieces too, that is," he added thoughtfully.

Jeff turned slightly red. In all honesty he knew exactly what their friend was out doing tonight. But he knew Kevin was not one of the few who knew the details of the mission he, Michael, and their friend Sarah had been set. He decided he had to lie.

"You're right", he finally said, "it's weird he wouldn't tell us what he's doing. I think it may have something to do with our next mission. You know, the one to the school," he added significantly.

Kevin smiled as he signaled for anther drink and said "That's right, Michael Jacobs, youngest person ever to be made Captain, is going back to school. I honestly thought he was just going to tell the other Captains to shove it, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Yes…but the alternative was 'looking for' escaped 'Death Eaters' in Antarctica…" Jeff said, before mentally adding, "there are other benefits too though…."

Jeff also raised his empty Firewhiskey and saw Wanda nod and grab second bottle. He privately knew why Michael had accepted such a boring mission, but after all Michael was doing to keep his cover, he supposed he had better do something too.

"You know why he accepted that assignment right?" Kevin said. Jeff narrowed his eyes. Kevin looked very certain of himself…. "He's after a girl." Jeff flushed a little.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, he just broke up with Tilly out of the blue," Kevin said slowly. Jeff said nothing; Michael had only trusted himself and Sarah with his secret. Kevin was a good friend, but if word got around STRIKE of what Michael had done…being demoted would be getting off easy. Did Kevin know? "I think he just wants a new girlfriend. Course, that won't be easy, dating someone outside the organization never is…but I think he's looking to find someone in a place where he hasn't run all the girls off yet!" He laughed as Wanda delivered their drinks.

Hearing Kevin's tone and words relaxed Jeff immensely. "Well then," Jeff said as Wanda walked away, "let's just hope he doesn't get caught by Bellatrix and end up turning into her boy toy or something."

Shaking his head, Kevin said "Yeah I know she's a monster and all, but I don't think she can do _that _mate."

"Then you just don't know her that well."

"Thank God I don't."

"Cheers," Jeff said as they clinked their bottles and turned their thoughts to something other than psychopathic Death Eaters.

"By the way..." Kevin said ominously. Jeff looked curiously at him. "Speaking of girls... You ever gonna get together with Sarah?"

"Yeah, I'm stopping by her house to fool around after this," Jeff replied sarcastically. He snorted. "Me and Sarah? Why?"

"She's hot," Kevin shrugged. "And cool, why not?"

"I don't know," Jeff said iritably, waving a hand at Kevin. "We're just not... Hell, me and her are friends, okay? Plus she yells…oh and her parents think I'm a bad influence. I'm _not_!" he added, taking a large gulp of the alcohol.

"So I can date her then?" Kevin asked, smirking and raising his eyebrows.

"Don't see why not," Jeff said indifferently, taking another drink and shutting his eyes.

"Brilliant," Kevin said quickly, standing up and brushing his shoulder off. "Seeing as how you don't care."

"You can ask her out if you want," Jeff said easily, his eyes still closed, though his wand was now pointing up at Kevin. "But she probably won't go for a guy with tentacles for arms."

"Checkmate," Kevin smirked, dropping back into his seat. "Little tip though. If you do want to end up with her, you should _probably _stop commenting on her boobs and butt every time you see her."

"Why?" Jeff asked in surprise, opening his eyes and staring blankly at Kevin. "They're nice compliments..."

"Yeah, 'nice rack' is _such_ a nice thing to tell a girl," said a sarcastic voice. Sarah Crystalake pulled a chair out from under the table and fell into it next to Jeff, holding a drink and taking a sip. "Even if it is true."

"Hey Sarah," Jeff muttered. "Don't drop into that seat so fast, you might damage your best _ass_et."

"Do you _want_ me to remove your mouth again?" she asked menacingly, waving her wand in front of his face.

"I'm bored," Kevin grumbled. He set down his empty bottle hard on the table. "Let's go do something."

"I just got here," Sarah said indignantly. "What the hell?"

"It's not our fault you took twenty minutes getting here," Jeff said, standing up.

"No, it's my parents'," Sarah said, sounding deeply annoyed. "My mom dragged me to one of her stupid 'get togethers' again. I seriously don't get why she always makes me go to that crap.

"It's so annoying! I have to get a Portkey to America and back, just so I can go to my mom's waste of time get-togethers and find a husband..."

Jeff and Kevin both choked on their drinks. Jeff blinked, looking furious. "A WHAT? You're seventeen! Why the hell are you getting married?"

"I'm not, calm down," Sarah said coolly. "My parents are just from that generation, Purebloods their age are used to that stuff. My mom's just got it in her head that 'a respectable young lady should have a suitor,'" she said scathingly.

Kevin kicked Jeff under the table; Jeff outright hit him in the arm. But then his face relaxed and he laughed. "Well then, there shouldn't be a problem. I see no 'respectable young lady' anywhere."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Whatever...it's not like my parents are _really _pushing it or anything, it's just annoying."

"Hey, your mom's a classy lady!" Jeff said angrily.

Kevin rolled with laughter, but Sarah snapped, "What the hell? You just think she's good looking, which is disgusting, by the way."

"We're not related, what's bad about that?" Jeff demanded.

"So it's okay if I 'accidentally' give your brother a show in that skirt you always comment on?" Sarah asked coolly, raising her eyebrows.

"I _will _hit a girl," Jeff seethed.

"Two things," Kevin said quickly, trying to keep the peace. "Yes, Jeff, your brother sucks arse through a straw. Sarah, you could beat Jeff like a redheaded stepchild, so calm down... Or else you'll _really _go off when I tell you why Jeff had been practicing Disillusioning so much lately."

Sarah spun to look at Jeff, her face furious and her wand pointed straight at him. "And why might he do that?"

Jeff looked desperately around for an escape, but the only way out was past Sarah, who was glaring a death sentence at him. He grinned very weakly. "Cause, uh, cause..." He looked urgently at Kevin, who was still laughing. "Cause... I like boobs?"

"I think I can help you there," Sarah whispered.

Jeff and Kevin exchanged stunned, nonbelieving looks, then Jeff turned to Sarah and said tentatively, "Um, okay... Let's see em."

"You got it," Sarah whispered dangerously. And she waved her wand sideways across Jeff, still seething. Jeff looked down in horror. Kevin laughed even louder.

"He he," he said, pointing gleefully at Jeff. "You've got boobies!"

"Am I supposed to be mad about this?" Jeff asked mildly, admiring the new additions, or at least appearing to.

"Maybe not _that_," Sarah shrugged. "But there are other things you may miss."

His look of glee changing to one of horror, Jeff quickly looked down. "Wait... wait... you didn't... you couldn't..."

"I did," Sarah said lightly. "So what do you guys want to do?"

"Have all my... stuff!" Jeff said angrily, brandishing his wand at Sarah, who looked at it coldly.

"You don't have the balls to hex me," Sarah smirked, knocking his wand away with a small smile. "Literally."


	4. Chapter 4: Escape!

"Ugh." His scar was hurting again. Well, not hurting precisely, it was just… bothering him.

Harry Potter sat up in his bed, realizing he was covered in sweat as he did so. He felt around for his glasses, and finding them, he put them on and tried to make sense of what he had seen. It was another flash into Voldemort's mind, that much was obvious.

He was used to his nights being haunted by visions from the Dark Lord's mind by now, but he was still surprised when he would occasionally get a feeling so strong, he knew exactly what Voldemort was thinking, doing, and planning.

This was one of those more intense visions. As Harry climbed out of bed and walked to his door, he could still feel Voldemort's burning anger, and the name still floated around in his head.

_Michael Jacobs._

Harry reached the bathroom and turned on the water, splashing it on his face. He racked his brain, thinking hard.

Had he ever met a Michael Jacobs? No, he had definitely never met the man. Maybe he had heard of him through someone, if Voldemort was as angry with the man as he thought, he likely had some connection to the Order.

Deciding he had never heard of or met Michael Jacobs, he went back to his room as quietly as possible. Careful to make no noise, as he was in no mood for one of Uncle Vernon's rants, Harry changed his sweat drenched shirt and tried to get back to sleep. No sooner had he lay down, he was back on his feet, pacing his room.

This had become common practice with him, as he tried to work off his excess energy, seeing as Dumbledore had all but forbidden him from leaving his Aunt and Uncle's house, considering the events at the Ministry a month ago. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

The physical need of a sixteen year old boy to leave his home more often than he could sneak out was certainly part of it, but the truth was that Harry was not sleeping much these days by choice.

His dreams were haunted by yelling, screaming, and flashes of green light. Often they were accompanied by his parents' and godfather's faces, smiling peacefully at him. But Harry hoped that soon he would be able to put it all out of his mind.

According to one of Ron's letters, Mrs. Weasley had spoken to Dumbledore, and after a day of consideration that seemed more like a year to Harry, she had convinced him to allow Harry to spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow.

Ron and his father had asked if it was acceptable for them to arrive by Floo Powder the next day at twelve o' clock to escort him to their home. Harry had quickly written back, requesting eight in the morning instead. It was as if Christmas had come early for Harry, leaving the his uncle and his constant threats of throwing him out on the street, where a "freak" like him belonged, in order to spend a month with his best friend and favorite family.

After pacing for a good fifteen minutes, Harry lay back down on his bed and eventually fell back asleep.

He awoke the next morning to the usual shout of "Boy, get yourself down here NOW!"

He wearily got out of bed, stretched, put on his glasses, changed his clothes, and headed down the stairs. Ignoring the tone and volume of the demand, the uneducated observer might guess that Harry's uncle was simply concerned Harry might miss breakfast if he slept in any later; but anyone who truly knew them knew that Harry's lack of food was something Uncle Vernon had worked towards for the past sixteen years.

No, over the years Harry had come to the conclusion his uncle simply felt he needed more time to torture Harry throughout the day. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found his uncle standing in the hallway connected to the living room, looking livid.

Having experience with this look, and deciding it would be easier to duck from a distance, he retreated a few steps back up the stairs before composing his face into an innocent smile saying, "Is something wrong? Probably nothing I could help with seeing as how I'm such a waste of space, I know, but what's going on down here?"

"You know bloody well what's wrong, boy!" Harry simply looked confused, honestly trying to work out how he could have angered his uncle this badly before he was even awake.

"Look!" Vernon snarled, pointing to the clock on the wall. At the exact same moment Harry heard a yelled "_Expelliarmus_!" from the kitchen. His eyes flashed to the clock that read eight-fifteen in the morning at the same moment Uncle Vernon gave a roar and ran towards the kitchen. His concern for the Weasleys overtaking his desire to laugh, he took off towards the kitchen too.

Harry hadn't meant to sleep in, of course, but with everything on his mind and the marginal amounts of sleep he had been getting recently, his body had simply shut down for a few more hours than he intended. He hoped Ron's father would forgive that rudeness, but he doubted the Dursleys would.

As he reached the kitchen, he saw a most peculiar scene. His aunt and nephew were cowering in a corner, holding each other apparently for fear of death. His uncle was standing with his back up against the wall, apparently having changed his mind about murdering the Weasleys.

On the other side of the kitchen, Ron Weasley was laughing hysterically at the looks on his Petunia and Dudley's faces, while Mr. Weasley was standing with a stern look on his face, his wand pointed at Uncle Vernon, his other hand clutching a frying pan which had apparently just vacated Aunt Petunia's hand.

Everyone seemed to realize Harry had entered the room at the same time, for his ears were full of some of the loudest shouting he had ever heard.

"Boy, call off these Goddamn psychos NOW!"

"Harry, mate, how have you been?"

"Um, Harry, I think it's time to go!"

"So many freaks in our house!"

"What do mean, freaks?!"

Harry looked at Mr. Weasley hopelessly.

"My stuff is already packed and upstairs, I'll just, uh, go get it."

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No, no Ill just summon it down here." he said as he waved his wand in a jerking motion and said "_Accio Trunk"_.

Harry knew Mr. Weasley and knew he was being helpful, but he also couldn't suppress the thought that whether or not the Dursleys were cowering from him, he did not want to be left alone with them.

Harry's trunk came floating down the steps as Mr. Weasley backed away, still with his wand out. He turned to face Harry, smiling despite his less than warm welcome.

"Well, shall we get going then, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley, obviously eager to leave his Uncle's presence.

"Yes, we might as we- MR. WEASLEY LOOK OUT!" Harry yelled, for Uncle Vernon had seized his opportunity while Mr. Weasley and Ron had their backs to him.

Aunt Petunia must have been chopping something when the Weasleys had arrived, for uncle Vernon had seized a kitchen knife off the floor and hurled it at Mr. Weasley's back. He ducked just in time for the blade to whiz over him.

Ron started to draw his wand, but Mr. Weasley yelled "No, Ron not now!" He jumped up, grabbed Harry by the arm, motioned for Ron to follow, ducked down to avoid another knife the sailed right by Harry, and pushed Harry into the still green fire in the living room yelling "The Burrow!" as he did. As Harry's world began to spin, got a last look at his Uncle's house and of Ron throwing himself into the fire behind them. Then as suddenly as the rotation had begun it stopped and Harry hit the ground hard.

Looking up, Harry realized he was in the Weasley's living room. Ron and Mr. Weasley joined him a second later, tumbling out of the fireplace one after the other.

Mr. Weasley stood up and brushed himself off. "Really, throwing knives at my back, how rude!" he said. "Don't they know I _work _with Muggles?"

"I…I wonder why they didn't wake me? They knew you were coming," Harry asked, mostly himself. But then he answered his own question. "Just repressed it, I guess."

Ron also attempted to get the soot of his robes, though with little success. "Dad, you really should have let me hit them with at least one good hex, maybe a really powerful Stunner, one that would leave a mark. No offense" he added to Harry after seeing the look on his father's face.

"Now Ron" he began disapprovingly, the Muggles just don't-" But Mr. Weasleys defense of his relatives was cut short by Harry.

"No Mr. Weasley, Ron just said exactly what I've been thinking since I was eleven," Harry said, shaking his head. "I had always hoped that eventually we might be able to get along, have some kind of relationship. But now I see there's no hope for anything like that."

"Harry…" Mr. Weasley began.

"No" he said firmly, "they… they really are bad people. They just tried to kill you!" Harry took a deep breath, wishing what he was saying wasn't true. "Look, it doesn't matter anymore; I don't ever have to go back there again. Hedwig was out hunting last night, she knows to come here when she's done."

Ron looked sadly at his friend, and Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to say something, but before he could there was a loud bang overhead and a section of the ceiling fell through in a cloud of smoke and debris.

Immediately after, he heard two "Damns" from the pile of wreckage, followed by two loud cracks. The next thing he knew, Mrs. Weasley threw open the door to the kitchen.

"Fred and George Weasley, I am going to kill you!"


	5. Chapter 5: First Meeting

"I mean _really_! How those two are so irresponsible is beyond me! How they ended up like this I have no idea!"

Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley were all sitting in chairs around the Weasley's living room, all pressed up against the back of their chairs. Mrs. Weasley had been going on like this for a good ten minutes and no one was foolish enough to try to remind her that she was angry at Fred and George, not those present.

Then, after another five minutes (during which Mrs. Weasley had not repeated the same threat twice) she stopped to take a deep breath. Mr. Weasley glanced around at Ron and Harry, then suggested timidly, "Um… Molly dear, don't you think that you might want to say this to Fred and George?"

"Oh I will!" she snarled.

And with that she stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Harry and both Weasleys remained quite still for a moment, afraid the slightest noise might bring Mrs. Weasley flying back into the room. Ron glanced at the door, then turned to Harry. "Hey Harry, let's go upstairs." He said. "There's something cool I want to show you." Harry agreed and they quickly ascended the stairs to the upstairs of the Burrow, leaving Mr. Weasley to find his own way of escape.

They reached the second floor and turned down a hallway passing several doors Harry knew led to Ron's brothers' and sister's rooms. They reached Ron's door at the end of the hall and went in. Hermione and Ginny were sitting on Harry and Ron's beds talking happily to each other.

"Hermione?" Harry said, surprised. He walked over to sit down next to Ginny. "I didn't know you were going to be here. So this is the cool thing you were talking about?" he asked Ron.

"No way," he said from the doorway "This is much cooler than Hermione," he said, ducking the book she threw at him. He walked over to a closet on the other side of the room and began rummaging through it.

"So how come you two didn't come down to see me?" Harry asked them. "You must have heard us come in."

"Oh, well we were going to, but then we heard Fred and George and figured it was safer to stay here" said Ginny, shrugging.

"You weren't wrong" came Ron's voice from inside the closet "Mum seriously lost it, it was scary."

"Well you can't blame her can you? They really could have done some serious damage," Hermione said fairly. Harry smiled at the thought that caving in the roof didn't fall under "serious" damage for the twins, while Ron angry voice spoke again from his closet.

"Hey lay off them all right? Never thought I'd, say it but they're actually all right."

Ginny rolled her eyes and said "Ron's fallen in love with Fred and George since they got him a new –"

"Found it!" Ron called, emerging from the closet and holding something long and thin. As he walked over to the beds and flung himself down next to Hermione, Harry saw that he was holding a broomstick. "Take a look Harry!" he said enthusiastically, holding it out for him. Harry took it from him and examined it. He had never seen a broom like this before, nor had he ever seen something of Ron's that looked so new.

"Fred and George gave it to me!" he told him happily, watching Harry turn it over in his hands.

"Nice one" Harry said, giving it back. "What is it? I've never seen one before."

"It's an Icarus Three!" he said excitedly. "Newest broom on the market, fastest too," he added proudly. "I always thought those two were gits but hey, guess I was wrong!" Ron was practically bouncing on the bed.

"Well then," said Harry, standing up "let's go." Ginny rolled her eyes again, but Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Go? Where?"

"To try this thing out" Harry said, being painfully reminded of Hermione's lack of interest in Quidditch and brooms in general. "Coming?" he added as he began to leave. Ron was already out the door and Harry heard him running down the stairs.

"Yes, I suppose so" said Ginny. "Honestly I've been wanting to have a ride on it myself…" she admitted. Hermione got to her feet resignedly and the three of them headed down the stairs and out the back door as quietly as possible, failing to notice Mrs. Weasley's note saying that she and Mr. Weasley had left to pick up a few things from Diagon Alley.

Harry turned the knob and held it open for the other two. Ginny smiled. "You've become a gentlemen?" she asked as she followed Hermione out. Harry returned her smile awkwardly. The compliment felt good in Harry's ears, and his heart. It was only when Ginny said his name that he realized he had been standing in the doorway, still holding it open for far too long.

"Where's Ron?" he asked quickly, seeing the look on her face and hoping to change the subject.

"I don't know," Hermione said wearily, "probably halfway to London by now. That thing really is fas –" but she was cut off as Ron came speeding down from out of the sun, missing Hermione by inches as he yelled with delight. Harry and Ginny were both roaring with laughter as they each offered her a hand, and Ron came to a skidding stop behind them.

"My turn, out of the way Harry!" Ginny said, forgetting Hermione and almost knocking Harry down in her rush to get to Ron.

"Sorry Hermione," Harry said apologetically as she brushed herself off, "but it really was rather funny." She said nothing but glowered towards Ginny, who had finally succeeded in convincing Ron to let her on, though he looked sulky and resentful.

Harry hurried over to them to escape Hermione's presence just in time to catch Ginny's parting words of " – and you know I'll do it too," as she kicked off and soared into the air.

"I don't believe her" Ron muttered "threatened to shove the broom right up my— hey Hermione!" he said cheerily, with a hopeful smile. "Sorry about that, couldn't resist…" Hermione continued to stare at him coldly, then Harry noticed a faint crease between her eyebrows. She pulled out her wand and pointed it directly at Ron.

"Hey!" he said, backing up a little "I said I was sorry. It was just a jo—" But then he covered his face with his hands and arms as a jet of red light shot from Hermione's wand. Harry pulled out his own wand ready to repair whatever damage the spell would do, but there was no need.

Hermione's Stunner missed Ron's ear by one or two inches, then collided with the jet of green light less than a foot behind Ron. Time seemed to slow down as Harry spun around, leveled his wand, and saw the six masked Death Eaters sprinting towards them firing spells as they went. He yelled "_Protego_" at the top of his voice, and the shield formed just in time to block three more spells.

Harry's shield was powerful enough to hold the Death Eaters long enough for the Trio to pick themselves up and point their wands at a different Death Eater, who did the same form the opposite side of the shield. A woman who was at the front of the group stepped forward and pulled off her mask, smiling evilly at them, her wand pointed straight at Harry's face, less than a foot apart.

"Well, well Potter, I thought we might find you here," Bellatrix said gleefully. "You should really have picked a better hiding spot. Perhaps one with more trustworthy people, at least."

He heard Ron make a quiet noise and knew what it must mean. One of the Weasleys must have been captured and forced to reveal the location.

"What have you done with my brother?" Ron's voice demanded from beside him. But he didn't sound like Ron. His voice was hard and filled with an odd mixture of both the most fear and the most hate he had ever heard in his friend's voice.

"Oh don't worry, little boy, your traitor brother will recover, it didn't take long to break him after all…" she said, passion heavy on her lips. "Are you _that_ stupid?" she added scornfully as Ron's Stunner bounced off Harry's shield. Several Death Eaters chuckled, then roared with laughter as the spell bounced back and hit Ron squarely in the chest, knocking him out.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, rushing to kneel next to Ron, to increased laughter from the Death Eaters.

Harry had no idea what to do. There was no cover anywhere, and none of them could Apparate yet. Ron was unconscious and he and Hermione stood no chance against six Death Eaters. The sudden stress drew much of his magic away; his shield began to flicker as he struggled to maintain it. His only hope was that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley or Ginny would not notice the commotion and get themselves involved.

As if on cue and to his horror Ginny swooped down on the group shooting spells at the Death Eaters, Stunning one. She shot upwards again, dodging several curses, and dove again this time managing to hit another. Harry heard a yell of terror as a spell that looked like a red whip flew from the tip of Bellatrix's wand wrapped around Ginny, flinging her to the ground. Harry's fears were not helped by the fact that she had been at least six or seven feet in the air when she fell.

Ginny appeared to be as unconscious as her brother. Two Death Eaters grabbed her under her armpits and hoisted her up. One of the others pointed his wand at her and said _"Eneverate_". Her eyelids fluttered as she let out a groan of pain.

Now," said Bellatrix, turning back to Harry "You have two options, stay behind that wall and watch while we torture your friend, or come out and surrender yourself. Chose quickly."

Harry didn't have to think. He turned his back to the Death Eaters and pointed his wand towards where Hermione was attempting to revive Ron and muttered _Protego_ again. A new shield popped up in between Harry and his friends, and at the same time the one between him and the Bellatrix disappeared. He had been in a similar situation only a month before, and this time he would make sure none of his friends were hurt.

He heard a triumphant cackle, then felt his wand leave his hand. He turned to face the Death Eaters, fighting to remain calm. "Okay there," he said, his voice higher than he expected it to be, "I'm yours. Now let Ginny and the others go." There was a pleading tone in his voice.

"Fine," Bellatrix shrugged, nodding to the two men holding Ginny "take her." They threw Ginny forcibly from them and she cried in pain as she hit the ground. Harry wasn't aware of running forward, or of Hermione screaming his name, and was only vaguely aware of the curse hitting him; he only knew he was calling her name.

He reached her and collapsed at her side, writhing in pain as the Cruciatus Curse operated on him. Through a haze of pain he saw Ginny's eyes were closed and a small part of him felt grateful she was out - he didn't want her to see this. Then the pain lifted as did he when the same two who grabbed Ginny lifted him in the same way.

"Well then," Bellatrix smirked, "the Dark Lord awaits you Potter. And please, do keep that look of fear it's very becoming..." she laughed.

"What should we do with the other three?" grunted one of the other Death Eaters, gesturing to Ginny and the other two.

"I don't care, kill them if you want," Bellatrix said dismissively. "We already have Potter, he is all I care about, do what you want with the other three, they're in no condition to put up much of a fight."

"If you're talking about us" said a girl's voice behind Harry and the seven remaining Death Eaters, "I'm afraid you're _very_ mistaken."

Anger washed across Bellatrix's face and the Death Eaters holding him dropped him and spun around, plunging their hands into their robes, only to be hit by two jets of yellow light which sent them spiraling into the shield Harry had conjured. They bounced off the shield and fell to the ground, out cold.

Harry, who had fell to his knees, lifted his head and saw three people standing about twenty feet away from the Death Eaters. The person on the left had sand colored hair and Harry thought he could see him smling slightly. The girl who had spoken was on the right. She had very dark hair that fell to her shoulders and was wearing an expression of complete concentration.

Both had their wands pointed into the group of Death Eaters and Harry knew it must have been them who cursed the two Death Eaters because unlike the first two, the man in the middle had not even drawn his wand. He looked angry, unlike the others, and spoke to his friend while staring straight at Bellatrix. "So Jeff" he said stepping forward and without taking his eyes off Bellatrix, "the usual bet?"

The man next to him stepped forward too "All right then," he said also not looking at his companion "whoever gets less of them owes the other a nice Niffler dinner. No cheap garbage this time!"

"Sounds good" said Michael Jacobs, though he had still not drawn his wand, "Hey Sarah, you want in on this?" he asked the girl.

"Nah" she said, though she sounded tempted "I'll let you to have your little game. Play nice though."

"Suit yourself," Michael said, shrugging. "All right!" he called loudly to the Death Eaters, all of whom seemed rooted to the spot where they stood. "I'm supposed to give you some kind of warning that we're going to arrest you, but—"

"Going to arrest us are you?" yelled one of the Death Eaters, finally finding his voice.

"Well, yes I am. Unless of course you're stupid enough to fight…I think we all know how that's going to end," he added, and in the same second three spells, most of them green, flew towards the three teens. Jeff and Sarah deflected them, while Michael drew out his own wand and disappeared in a plume of flames, appearing next to Harry and Ginny, behind the Death Eaters and shot several curses at them.

Within moments, two more Death Eaters were down and the remaining two had began sprinting towards the edge of the Weasley's yard, to where they would be able to escape. Harry snatched up his wand and acted; one fell feet from end of the wards but a final curse missed Bellatrix.

She turned quickly and shot a retaliatory curse at Michael. "You think you've won here?" she screeched at him. Michael, Jeff, and Sarah advanced slowly on her. Michael wanted very badly to take her on the spot, but knew a sudden attack would cause her to Disapparate before they could stop her, as she was now outside the wards.

"Easy…" Jeff warned his friend quietly.

"You might have a better chance against me with some real help," she taunted Michael. "Who are these two? New fodder for me? They don't look up to par with Stetnas…."

"Dammit!" Sarah hissed as Michael and Bella fired simultaneous spells. Michael threw himself to the ground to avoid her Killing Curse, but Bellatrix simply vanished out of the line of Michael's blue wave of magic.

Michael had a very unpleasant look on his face as he got back up and dusted himself off. "Stupid bitch…" he muttered.

"We got most of them," Sarah told him. She looked a little awkward as she addressed her friend.

"Yeah…but none of them are the most evil Witch to wave a wand," Michael said irritably. He sighed, shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Right…well anyway…professionalism…."

Harry glanced up at the man next to him, who seemed to be surveying the area for other threats. Apparently satisfied they were safe, he stored his wand back in his pocket and turned to Harry and Ginny.

"You all right?" he asked. "That was a pretty nasty curse you took," he said grimly, as the other two rushed up to him.

"I'm fine" Harry told him, before coughing. "But Ginny's hurt pretty badly." Jeff wandered off towards Ron and Hermione, while Sarah crouched down next to Harry and Ginny.

"Here let's see what we can do" she said, sounding tired. She waved her wand up and down Ginny's body, muttering to herself.

"Impressive aim," Michael told Harry. "We _almost _got Lestrange. But the rest are out. Don't worry about your friend" Michael said, offering Harry a hand up "Sarah's got a lot of experience Healing, thanks to me. She's a big part of the reason I'm still alive."

"Actually, Michael" she said distractedly, "I'm the only reason you'll still alive.  
Remember Beijing?" she added.

"Yeah, yeah I remember, broken leg, arm, and collarbone right?" he said, smiling reminiscently. "But how is she?" he added, looking down at Ginny and sounding concerned.

"She'll be fine. Might need a while in Mungos, but nothing they won't be able to fix," Sarah said soothingly, more to Harry than Michael. "You two go check on those two," she added, now pointing her wand at Ginny's ribs and muttering a quiet spell.

"Right," Michael nodded. "C'mon." he added to Harry, starting forward and gesturing for him to follow.

Harry hastened his walk to catch up with Michael. "Who- who the hell are you people?" he finally got out. Michael laughed.

"We get that question a lot" he said. "Just know we're friends of the Order." They reached Jeff who was smiling slightly as Hermione stared around at them all, and Ron, who was now sitting upright, was shaking his head groggily.

"Harry!" they said at the same time as soon as he reached them. Hermione flung herself into a tight embrace.

"You- you almost died!" She seemed to be in shock. "Harry, oh- Harry!" she cried.

Not knowing what to do, he patted her on the back a little while looking at Ron who gazed up at Harry with more pain on his face than Harry had ever seen.

"Harry," he croaked "I'm sorry. I- I couldn't help it." Harry knew he was beyond feeling stupid for hexing himself, he was too concerned.

"Don't worry about it" he said. "Don't" he said again as Ron opened his mouth. "I promise, we're going to find your brother."

"He's all right," said Jeff, picking Ron up onto his feet, "We heard Bellatrix was in the area and knew it couldn't be good. Some of our people found your brother. That's how we knew to come here. They sent us to make sure you were all right."

"Hey, Potter," Michael said, turning to Harry, who of course was used to people knowing his name. "Seen him yet?" he asked, looking around as though expecting to see someone he knew.

Harry looked at him, confused "Who are you talking about?" he asked.

"Who am I talking about?" he repeated. "Siri—"

But he was cut off as one of the Death Eaters who had been holding Harry had apparently woken up and lunged at Hermione, who fell down with the Death Eater on top of her. He leaned down, breathing heavily, and prepared to bite Hermione on the neck, only to be thrown no less than fifty yards from Hermione as Michael, Jeff, and Harry's collective spells hit him. Harry looked at the defeated man in horror. "Greyback…."

Sarah and Jeff ran towards where the werewolf had fallen, wands still out. Meanwhile Michael walked over to Hermione and offered her a hand.

"You know," he said, pulling Hermione to her feet, "used to be if you wanted to eat a girl's face, you had to buy her dinner first."


	6. Chapter 6: The Other Trio

_Early the next day_

Ginny had been taken to St. Mungos immediately after her parents had returned and Binding Hexes had been placed on the defeated Death Eaters. It had done little to help Mrs. Weasley's worrying when she had gone in to see her daughter only to find her eldest son in the bed next to her. Bill was awake and sitting up, though wincing every time he moved.

When they asked him about what Michael Jacobs had said (he and the other two had not gone to the Wizarding hospital, instead taking the captured Death Eaters to the Ministry) he just shook his head and said he didn't remember anything about a Michael Jacobs.

"So I had just come home, because I hadn't been feeling good, so I took the day off," he was saying. "And there's a knock on my door. I got up to answer it but then someone blasted the door in and I guess knocked me out. Next thing I know, I'm lying here with you lot." He frowned at them.

"You still haven't told me what Ginny's doing here though," he added, looking confused. Molly tried to hide her sob, but to no avail. The Cruciatus Curse could sometimes cause memory loss and…other mental problems.

This was the third time he had asked that question.

Harry only heard bits of Bill's story though. While the Weasleys and Hermione were grouped around Bill's bed, he was sitting in a chair next to Ginny's. She was talking quietly to him and had just gotten as far as asking Harry if he thought the girl who had healed her could do anything for Bill when she noticed he wasn't listening at all.

His hand was on top of hers and he was staring down at her in a way that would have creeped her out if it was anyone else, apparently deep in thought. It then hit her that he hadn't said more than a few words since the attack.

Instead he was dwelling on what Michael had said, as well as what had happened to Ginny. Harry knew he was about to say Sirius' name, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the question "Have you seen him yet?" He considered the idea that a body had been recovered after all, but there was something in Michael's tone and face that told him that wasn't it. Making a mental note to ask him about his godfather, along with a few other things, he turned his attention fully to the redhead lying in the bed beside him.

* * *

Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting behind his heavy wood desk, staring intently at a memo from his Head Auror. He was just about to put the report down and start on another - again from the Auror department - when the door of his office swung open. Scowling, he put away his drawn wand and motioned for the man in the doorway to come inside. He did so, dragging something large and heavy in his right hand.

"Good to see you too, Minister," Michael said as he carelessly kicked the polished door behind him closed. "Hope you don't mind if I brought a friend," he added as he threw his burden onto the floor in front of him.

"I just thought" he went on, ignoring the Minister's look of outrage as he realized what was on his floor, "that the, what is it now, two?" he looked at Scrimgeour inquiringly, "the two Death Eaters who haven't managed to escape Azkaban yet might be getting a little lonely. So I brought them a friend. Jeff and Sarah are downstairs with a few other new playmates," he finished, prodding Greyback with his foot.

Scrimgeour finally looked away from Greyback and back at Michael, who was now leaning easily on a wall, his hands in his pockets. "Jeff and Sarah…" he said slowly, "are they your people? Are they, what are you calling yourselves, STRIKE?" he asked in a very polite, very forced tone, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, they are" Michael said shortly. "And please Minister, don't attempt to have them detained. Their temperament towards the Ministry is similar to mine and if one of the Aurors tried to get too touchy-feely with them, especially Sarah, it wouldn't be pretty."

Scrimgeour glared at him a moment and Michael continued to look at him impassively. He could tell he had angered Scrimgeour with his subtle threat, but both men also knew he was good for it.

"And what about you Jacobs?" he asked quietly. "It's just you and me in here. What if I decided to arrest you for vigilantism? By the time your friends got here my people would have dealt with them…"

To his surprise, Michael smiled. "I'd hate to make a mess in your new office, especially as I see you have a new carpet, I wonder how many taxpayer Galleons that was…? As for arresting me, I'm afraid you'll find that, right before he was sacked, dear old Fudge passed a law making STRIKE an officially unofficial Ministry task force.

Apparently we're a sub department of Magical Games and Sports or something due to some bureaucracy. Anyway… Staffon wants to see you. Says it's time you two had a proper meeting"

Scrimgeour looked even angrier than he did when Michael threatened him. "The Ministry of Magic does not negotiate with terrorists," he said forcefully.

"Oh would you cut the crap?" Michael said impatiently, pushing himself off the wall. "Just agree to the damn meeting so I can get going. Call us whatever you like, the term I hear the most is heroes, but whatever, I don't care. Just say you'll meet with Staffon, alright?"

Scrimgeour sighed; perhaps it was time to meet the man. "Fine, fine," he said wearily. "I'll have the bloody meeting. But you and me, Jacobs" his eyes glinted malevolently, "we have a lot to discuss first."

"Sure do," Michael said turning for the door. "Just not right now. I'm a busy man, see?"

"Now wait a minute here Jacobs!" he snarled, anger flaring up again, just as Michael was about to turn the doorknob. "You don't speak to me like that. I'm the Minister now!" he fumed.

"And?"

"And that means you show me the respect you never did when I was your boss! It's things like that that got you kicked out of the Aurors! You think that now that you're with _them_ you're so important and you can talk to me how you like?"

Michael turned from the door and the expression on Scrimgeour's face changed, though only slightly, at least much less than Michael's had. A cold anger filled it.

It took a lot to make him this angry, and when he finally did reach that point, people stopped wondering how he ever held his own against Voldemort. Usually they began stuttering and apologizing at that point.

"You listen to me Minister," he whispered. "You leave my friends out of this. We never asked for your help, nor have we ever interfered with the Aurors unless it was to save a life. Which I have already done today, by the way."

Scrimgeour wasn't quick enough to hide his confusion and Michael noticed. "Your Auror guard did a good job letting a few friendly Death Eaters," he gestured again at Fenrir, "get at Potter. Now I know you don't give a rat's ass about him, but I really can't think of a better way to get yourself sacked than to let Harry Potter get killed a month into your term."

He turned, then stopped again with his hand on the crystal knob. "And just to clarify, you were never my boss and I chose to leave. I think you remember why. Sorry another mutual friend of ours had to miss this fun little party. Bella had to leave at the last minute." And with that he stepped out the door, passed the receptionist without a word, and headed towards the atrium, intent on Flooing his way out as soon as possible.

* * *

Six teens and two adults were squeezed into the Burrows sitting room. The adults looked worried, three of the teens who were sitting together looked curious, and the other three on the couch opposite the other three all had different expressions. Nobody was talking.

Sarah, sitting in the middle of the couch, was looking around, taking in the room and the people in it while looking politely interested. Jeff, who was on her left, had a very unpleasant expression on and was staring at the floor as though hoping it would combust.

Michael had his eyes closed, was sitting straight backed, and was rubbing the back of his neck. The three STRIKE agents were sitting in the living room of the Burrow along with the Trio and the elder two Weasleys.

"So…" Michael spoke at last, putting his feet down and looking around. "Uh, nice place you've got," he said feebly. "Listen, I don't like ordering people around, especially in their own house," he addressed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "but I… we need to talk to these three," he nodded at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "alone. I know today's been hard, but this is important."

Mrs. Weasley looked like she was going to say no, but Arthur held up his hand. "Molly, I believe we can trust them." She opened her mouth but he pressed on "Look, dear, they've already saved how many of our children? We'll be in the next room if you need anything," he told the room at large. And they left, leaving the six teens to stare at each other.

"Right," Michael said awkwardly. "Well I'm Michael Jacobs, this is Sarah Crystalake," he indicated the witch next to him, "And this is Jeff Allero." Jeff only grunted, still looking down. "Ignore him," Michael shrugged.

"We shouldn't be here," Jeff said shortly. "Not like this. We should've been faster."

Michael shook his head and looked down. He watched the floor a moment, then looked back up.

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron before starting, "We never really got to thank you for what you did... I'm Herm -"

"Hermione Granger, I know," Michael interrupted. "And you're welcome. So you're Ron Weasley, right?" Michael asked a very startled Ron. Ron and Hermione didn't have Harry's experience with people knowing their names.

"I know about you all. We stay informed," he added to answer their questioning looks. "But never mind that now, we've got more important things to talk about…" he said as though steeling himself for something.

"You're going to tell them?" Jeff asked. "Thought it was top secret."

Sarah looked at him wearily. "That's the whole point of our mission, Jeff. Staffon wants them to know, so we're here to tell them," she said simply.

"Sorry, I missed something," Ron said at last "But tell us what, exactly?" Michael noticed he glanced at Hermione as he said it and guessed she had habit of answering his questions. She only shrugged though, so Michael took a deep breath.

"So what do you three know about the Slytherin Seven?"


	7. Chapter 7: The Slytherin Seven

Harry looked around at his friends questioningly. Ron made a face and shrugged, apparently he had never heard of the Slytherin Seven either. Hermione, however, was frowning at Michael, not sharing Harry and Ron's look of confusion.

"The Slytherin Seven," she said seriously, "were a group of Dark Wizards, led by Salazar Slytherin, who were dedicated to the total and complete destruction of all Muggles and Muggleborns. They were known to use methods even worse than Voldemort's. No one knows their combined body count before they vanished," she finished darkly

Michael raised his eyebrows, impressed. He hadn't expected her information to be so accurate. "Well you're partly right. But for starters, the Slytherin Seven wasn't just a group, the name also refers to the seven powerful items created by the group. Damn scholars…made memorizing all this a lot harder. Also Salazar wasn't the leader; he was only second in command."

"Yeah, I know," he added to the incredulous looks on their faces. Salazar Slytherin was widely considered the most powerful Dark Wizard in history, except for maybe Voldemort or Gellert Grindlewald.

"They were actually led by the current Dark Lord at the time, Lord Malos. They became known as the Slytherin Seven later in history because Salazar was their most memorable member. They faded into obscurity over time, partially because of how long ago they lived, partially due to Slytherins playing down the whole group throughout history. Even they have shame sometimes, I guess," Michael shrugged.

"Who were the other five then?" asked Harry. "Besides from Slytherin and Malos."

Michael shook his head. "Well we only know four others, along with their rank. The name of the last member of what we'll go ahead and call the Seven, if only for convenience, is lost to history."

"Go on then" Hermione said. "Tell us about the ones you do know."

"Ok well, like I said their leader was Malos. Slytherin was second in command. In third place was Tiberius Malfoy, he was the main financial backer for the Seven's agenda."

At this point Harry muttered "Some things never change…" Hermione gave him a look, but Michael smiled bitterly. "Looks like you have the same opinion of the distinguished Malfoy clan as I do"

"But where was I? Oh yeah," he continued "Erer Darothil was the fourth strongest of them, supposedly murdered Helga Hufflepuff, and just a little more powerful than Aerin Bael, supposedly the most skilled swordsman of the era. He was fifth in order, magically at least. Number six was Syrene Lestrange; I know you've met one of her decedents too. There's some speculation she was the one who seduced Salazar and led him to the Dark side, but who knows, doesn't matter now, right?"

"And nobody knows who last member was?" Harry asked. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Well people have some guesses" Sarah said uncertainly "But not many people know about the group at all…" She shook her head. "They've been overshadowed by more recent villains like Voldemort."

Jeff finally spoke. "If they only knew half of it…" he trailed off. "If they only knew what they had really done…"

That jarred Harry's memory. "You said the Seven wasn't a group" he told Michael, who nodded. "You said it was something they made, tell us about that." Usually Harry paid little attention to any history lesson, but he had a feeling what Michael was saying was important somehow.

Michael waved a hand at Sarah, asking her to take over. She sighed and then picked up the story. "The legend is that each of the Seven created an item of incredible power, which they used to further their reign of terror. Now let's see…" She looked down at her hands. "No one knows who number seven was or what he made…"

She extended a finger. "But we know Lestrange made the Robe of Six," she extended another finger. "Bael forged the Sword of Five, Darothil had Ring of Four" she paused and looked at the other two. "What's after that?" she asked. "The one Malfoy had?"

"That was the Mask of Three" Jeff told her. "Really the most dangerous of all, if you ask me… And Slytherin wore the Belt of Two. And then nobody knows what Malos had, right?" he asked the other two, who nodded.

"So there you have it" Michael said, leaning back into the couch. "The Slytherin Seven"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other. Harry decided to voice the one question he knew they were all thinking.

"Why exactly are you telling us all this?"

Michael sat back up, looking mildly surprised. "Oh, didn't I tell you the best part? Apparently each of these items can only be destroyed by a descendent of the one who made it."

Michael saw each persons' face change and knew they had an idea of what he wanted from them. Hermione fidgeted about for a moment, running her thumbs up and down the inside of her palms, then the question burst through her façade.

"You believe Ron or Harry is descended from one of the Seven?" she asked quickly.  
Ron and Harry shared a look. Harry had once been accused of being descended from Salazar Slytherin and very much hoped he wasn't about to be again.

"Well yes, we do" Michael admitted. "But first, I wonder why you assume it's not  
you?"

"Well," Hermione said uncertainly, "because I'm Muggleborn. It's obvious all of the Seven were wizards, so I can't be descended from them."

Michael considered at her for a moment. "You're right, you're not the one we came looking for, and you have no connection to the Seven. But don't assume you can't do anything to help because of that… We have something in common, you know, both Muggleborns. Though Sarah's top of the class, I think I fell somewhere around twenty-second…."

"In a class of twenty people" Jeff smirked. "Doesn't matter anyway, you're a damn dropout."

"Really, you're Muggleborn?" Hermione asked. Michael nodded. "I only ask because when I was little, my parents sometimes got really freaked out if I accidently did magic, they didn't know what to think, I'm pretty sure they just told themselves they were tired or some other rubbish. But you seem…well, very magical, I wonder how they explained that. What?" she finished in confusion as both Sarah and Jeff were frantically shaking their heads.

Michael smiled at his friends reactions. "I wouldn't know," he said. "They both died when I was a kid, about a year old…."

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. "Oh! I didn't…. I'm sor-" but Michael interrupted her.

"Don't be sorry" he told her. "Unless you have a time turner and some Death Eater robes lying around, you didn't kill them."

"They were killed by Death Eaters?" Harry asked. Michael knew by way of Harry's preceding reputation this was a tragedy held in common.

"Yeah, and I still don't know the name of the one who did it. I'm not sure if I want to know that name, either."

"Don't you want revenge?" Harry asked quietly.

"Of course I do" Michael said, scowling. "But the thing is, I probably already have it. I've put a lot of Death Eaters in sixty miles from civilization in Azkaban and a few others six feet under it, so I've likely already avenged them, I just don't know for sure."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. Both looked equally startled by the information he had just divulged. "So you've…" Harry began, but Michael knew what was coming and cut him off.

"Yes I've killed someone before. And no – it's not as easy as it seems. But how did we get on my life story anyway?" he said, sounding agitated.

"I was just telling Weasley he could destroy one of the Seven, and we ended up talking about my parents. Hell, I guess that's why my job is to fight, not negotiate."

"So back to Weasley. As you can imagine, not many of the surnames are still around, they were way too selective about who they married. The Malfoy and Lestrange names are still around, though that doesn't help much considering what we need them for. And no one knows who the last member was or Lord Malos' real name. There are however," he looked pointedly at Ron, "still descendents of Darothril and Bael alive, though they have different names nowadays."

He smiled at Ron, who looked at him blankly. "Me?" he asked. "You think I'm descended from one of these Seven?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah, looks that way" Michael said. "Sarah did some digging and found out that through some cousin-lovin' and other… things that were common back…then that the Weasley clan is the most direct descendents left of Erer Darothril, fourth in command of the Seven and creator of the Ring of Four. My apologies."

Before Ron could do anything more than open his mouth even wider, Hermione quickly directed another question at Michael. "You said that the Slytherin Seven were powerful Dark objects, but you haven't told us what exactly they did."

"Do," Michael corrected her quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Do" he repeated. "Of the five objects we are aware of three still definitely exist. The Sword of Five was destroyed in Russia and I tricked Bellatrix Lestrange into  
destroying the Robe of Six a few weeks ago. I've still got marks from that…." He smiled mischievously. "But we know that Belt of Two, Mask of Three, and Ring of Four are all intact, thanks to a little digging I did a few nights ago.

"Now then, 'What do they do?' you ask. I'll start with the Robe Lestrange created. Also known as the Spirit Robe. When worn, the Robe would for all intents and purposes, give the wearer all the benefits of being a ghost."

"All the benefits?" Harry repeated. "What do you mean?"

"All the fun stuff ghosts can do that we can't. Like walking through walls for example. It also had a translucent quality that could be used to make the wearer virtually invisible. Very useful for, say, spying on enemy war rooms."

"Or changing rooms…" Sarah muttered, throwing Jeff a very dirty look.

"You say this like you know from experience." Hermione said quickly. "And that you fooled Bellatrix into ruining the Robe."

"Yeah, yeah I did" Michael said, who was looking at Sarah and smiling slightly. "I wore it once and got her to attack me, it wasn't exactly hard. Anyway, she shot the Avada at me and it hit me square in the chest. The Robe kinda disintegrated and I hit the floor thanking God all our information on the Robe was right."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shared a look.

"Hold on a minute..." Hermione said slowly. "You said that Bellatrix destroyed the Robe of Six right? But she only married a Lestrange, she wasn't born one. So the connection passes through marriage?"

"Yep, that's what it looks like," Michael confirmed. "Marriage is a very serious bond, just like an Unbreakable Vow. Magic recognizes bonds like that, it's why husbands and wives can use each other's wands with no issues. So, for instance, if you and Weasley ever got married, then you'd be able to destroy the ring too."

Both Ron and Hermione turned a deep pink and avoided each other's gaze for a while. Michael took no notice and carried on.

"Right, well after that was the Sword of Five, which as I said, we saw destroyed in Russia. The Sword heightened all the instincts of its user to near superhuman levels. Including the killer instinct," he added darkly. "Not a very interesting story, really. Just found out some poor village kid was the last living descendent of Bael.

"Well it wasn't very hard to convince him what to do. Didn't bother explaining everything" he added at Hermione's questioning look "The kid was only about ten, probably wouldn't have understood half of it. Anyway we put a bag of gold in one of his hands and the Sword in the other and watched him throw it into a furnace. And it was gone" he finished simply.

"What about this Ring?" Ron asked. "The one you said that I could destroy. What does that one do?"

"Well Darothril was always a greedy bastard. They say he nearly murdered Malfoy on a few occasions, out of jealousy. But he was also smart. When someone wears the Ring of Four everything they touch becomes gold. I think Muggles have a story about it, somehow attributed to some kind…." He smiled at the look on Ron's face, then frowned slightly as he looked closer.

"I know what you're thinking, that doesn't sound too bad right, just turning stuff to gold. Well here's the thing. It doesn't just turn anything into gold, it can turn anyone into gold."

Hermione gasped. "You mean if you have the Ring on," she asked, her eyes wide, "just by touching a person…"

"Yep" Michael solemnly, "They're gone. I'm glad you understand the danger posed by such an item." He glanced again at Ron, who was slightly pale, then continued.

"So that leaves the Belt of Two and the Mask of Three, Slytherin and Malfoy's crowing achievements. Basically the Mask allows the person wearing it total mind control. And it's absolute, not like the Imperius Curse, which can be fought. If the person wearing the Mask of Three tells you to do something, you do it, no questions asked. The only catch is that it can only work on one person at a time, but I agree with Jeff, it's still probably the most dangerous.

"When you face someone using the Belt of Four, it allows them to absorb most minor and moderate curses and use their energy to increase the user's own power. From the research I've done, it appears that the Belt can take two hits from one of the Unforgivables before having to cool down for a while, how long I don't know."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "From what you're saying though, about the Belt absorbing magical energy, if it did channel the power of an Unforgivable Curse to you, you would probably be strong enough to beat just about anybody, especially," she added thoughtfully, "if your opponent didn't expect you to get back up if you were hit by the Killing Curse."

"Exactly," Michael said. "Now back to the Ri-" But he stopped talking and swore, reaching into his pocket. He retrieved a small, perfectly circular stone about the size of his palm. It was about an inch thick and covered in a network of shallow eteched Runes. Michael drew his wand with his other hand and tapped it against the stone.

A translucent figure of a young woman grew out of the disc, small enough to stand on the small object. Michael frowned and looked down at her as her full body materialized. "You're on assignment?" the woman asked. She looked around, staring at Harry and his friends as soon as she saw them.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"No reason to get snippy with me," the woman retorted. Sarah made an apologetic face at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Staffon wants to meet with you. As soon as possible."

"About what…?" Michael asked ominously. He had a feeling he already knew.

"I haven't a clue," the woman replied. "Didn't say. But it's obviously important. He wants you two as well," she added, nodding at Jeff and Sarah.

"We'll be there soon," Michael assured her. "Thanks for the heads up." Without allowing her parting words, Michael tapped the disc again and the woman was gone. He replaced both wand and stone in his pocket, then noticed the face Sarah was making at him. "I know I know," he forestalled her, "rude to the others. Whatever. Sorry about that," he told Harry. "Its…well, its STRIKE magic," he went on, answered the unasked. "I'll be happy to show you later but it looks like we're short on time…you too go on home, I'll be right behind you."

"What the hell?" Jeff grumbled as he stood up. "Can't I get a minute of peace today?"  
Sarah stood up to and stretched, and Michael smirked as he noticed Harry and Ron's eyes wander as she grabbed arms behind her and pushed her chest forward.

Apparently she missed this as she waved brightly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "It was nice meeting all of you. I think we'll see you again soon!" And with that she and Jeff crossed the room and exited outside to Disaparate.

Michael watched them go then turned to the other three. "Listen, I know this is a lot to take in and I'd like to talk with you all, about things a little more mundane than ancient Dark relics. But…" he sighed dramatically "duty calls. But you'll probably be seeing us soon, hopefully under better circumstances."

"So what do I do?" Ron asked him as Michael stood up. "You've just told me I have to destroy some damn ring and now you're just leaving? What the hell's that about?" he said. Ron immediately blushed and Michael supposed he regretted the outburst, justified or not.

"What you need to do, at least for now" Michael said, "is nothing. We don't know where the Ring is, though we have a few ideas. Maybe that's what this meeting's about…" he added as an afterthought. "And in any case, you're not the only one who can destroy the Ring, anyone born with the name Weasley can, you just seemed the most capable," he said coolly.

Ron looked greatly surprised and slightly embarrassed at this. He usually didn't receive such complements from anybody, let alone complete strangers.

"If you want to tell anyone in your family go ahead, just know that by doing so, you're putting yourself in danger. A lot of Dark wizards would love to get their disturbingly pale hands on any of the Seven, and they would probably view you as a threat to achieving that. So, just…use your discretion.

"Just one more thing" Hermione said. "Why exactly do you have to destroy these items? I know the Ring is dangerous but what about the Robe? And the Belt sounded like it could be useful in the right hands too."

"Because of the innate property that is common to all the items" Michael said darkly. "They corrupt the mind. They fill your head with," Michael paused and shook his own head, "with dark thoughts. They make you want to do… things. In short," he finished simply, "they're pure evil."

Michael waved at them and headed for the door. "We'll probably meet again right after school starts, so I'll see you then. Good meeting you." He opened the door and was about to step out when he stopped. He had been quite proud of himself so far, really projected the authority figure he was supposed to as a STRIKE Captain but…but now Michael felt less like a war leader and more like a teenager.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"What?" Michael said sharply, coming out of a daydream. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Hey, I wanted to ask you, before I left, about that business at the Ministry. I read all about it…you all…you all were impressive. Harry Potter lives up to the legend," he nodded at Harry. "But it wasn't just you three, right?"

All three of them suddenly looked very uncomfortable and avoided Michael's eye. He rubbed the back of his neck and realized his mistake. "I wasn't asking about – about any other groups that might or might not have been there. I know there are some things you can't talk about," he said quickly. Michael didn't want Potter to think he was probing for information about the Order of the Phoenix…not that he didn't want any, STRIKE certainly didn't have much. "But you three brought some other students, right?"

Michael felt a strange pressure in the bottom of his throat. Something had moved up from his chest to cut off most of his air supply.

"Oh, yes, we did," Hermione breathed, looking relieved, "our friends Luna and Neville, and Ron's sister Ginny came with us." Michael nodded quickly.

"Everyone came out okay, right?" he asked. "I heard there were injuries. A lot of Death Eaters were there, some of Voldemort's best. Not…not all of you have experience fighting Dark Wizards. No offense to you three, I know you can handle yourselves, but well, your friends seemed out of place in a fight like that."

Michael had spoken much more – and much more quickly – than he had meant to. But in one breath, it was all out and he could only wait for an answer.

"Neville, Luna, and Ginny were all part of our defense group," Harry told Michael slowly. The look on his face confirmed that he was starting to confuse Harry. "We didn't want them involved…but they all knew what they were doing."

"She was able to defend herself?"

Michael went pale and six eyes narrowed at him. Michael was past embarrassed or worried, a near decade of hunger was finally being fed. He shook his head.

"Who?" Ron asked.

Michael paused. He knew if he said the name, there was no going back. He was starting something he couldn't stop, and he was turning his back on the organization that employed him. They would find out at some point, that's what STRIKE did. But at that moment, Michael only cared about finding out one thing.

"Luna. Luna Lovegood. You know her?"

"Yeah she's our friend" Ron answered uncertainly. "Do _you _know her?"

Michael either didn't hear or ignored Ron's question. "That was some bad stuff you got into there. Is Luna doing alright, she didn't get hurt or anything did she?"

"No she actually came out of that in the best condition of all of us. There were Death Eaters everywhere, I don't know how she managed…" Hermione stopped talking abruptly and looked at Michael almost suspiciously. "Do you know her? Are you a friend of hers?" Hermione repeated Ron's question.

Michael ignored her just as he had Ron. He had heard enough for now, enough to convince him what he was doing was right. His will was set. "Thank you," he said quietly, and sincerely. "I'll meet you all again soon." Without another word a pillar of fire erupted around him, and Harry jumped up suddenly, thoroughly startling Ron and Hermione. "Hey wait!" he shouted after him. But it was too late, he was gone by the time Harry had gotten to his feet.

"Dammit!" he swore angrily, causing his friends to look at him with concern. "Harry…" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off. "He knows something about Sirius!" he yelled. "What the hell was I doing? We talked for how long and I didn't think to ask him!"

Harry swore again just as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley re-entered the room, looking nervous. "Harry dear, is something wrong?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at Ron and Hermione for information, but they just shook their heads sadly.

"I'm going outside" Harry muttered, disappearing through the same door Michael and his friends did, slamming it behind him. He had missed his chance to hear news of his godfather, and instead passed on information about his friend to a man he barely knew. Harry didn't know when he would meet Michael Jacobs again, but he hoped it was soon.


	8. Chapter 8: Auditions

"_Reducto!_"__

"_Sectumsempra!_"

Bellatrix covered her face as the curses met, but there was no need. Once again her curse proved stronger and with a terrible gasping sound, the man in front of her fell to the floor, dead, his throat slit.

She sighed heavily. This was becoming tiring. He was one of the most promising applicants she found, and yet again, she had bested him easily. This would usually be a source of pride for her, except today her life depended on her defeat.

"My Lord" she called above her, "it's over. The fool's dead."

She was standing in a large, rectangular room. It was dark enough to prevent her from seeing clear to the other end of the room but not so much that she had no idea what was happening, and was littered with scattered debris including crumbling stone pillars and other large objects. There was a large rectangular glass window at the far wall from Bellatrix in which a solitary figure could be seen staring intently down at the room. It seemed as if she was in an enormous obstacle course designed to simulate real combat.

Her Lord's hiss of a voice emanated from all four walls. "Tsk tsk Bella, is that really the best you could find?" His voice was cold and Bellatrix could detect his annoyance. That could be dangerous for her.

"My Lord, forgive me" she pleaded. "Do not blame me for their failings." Her Black arrogance getting the best of her she couldn't stop herself from adding, "You expect too much of them. That they should defeat me, your greatest and most loyal servant!"

When Voldemort spoke again, the anger in his voice was obvious. "I require someone of extraordinary power if they are to accomplish the task I have for them."

"My Lord, I am powerful!" she exclaimed, once again unable to stop herself.

"And yet you have proved time and time again, you are no match for STRIKE's agents, particularly Mr. Jacobs. How can I expect my new… associate to counter Jacobs and his friends if they are not even able to cope with your level of power? Which is, cursed as I am with such substandard servants, the best audition I can provide."

Now Bellatrix was angry too. One must always be careful with anger directed at Lord Voldemort, if one intends to continue breathing. "Then why not test them yourself Master? Would it not give you a better chance to gauge their power if they were up against the 'true' strength they are expected to overcome?" she asked, immediately covering her mouth. She went cold, what had she just said?

"I hope you are not implying," Voldemort said, making her jump; he had silently appeared behind her, "that you consider that man and I to be anything near equal?" he asked quietly.

Bella backed away a few paces. "My- my Lord I only meant-"

"I know exactly what you meant Bella" he said, quietly as ever. "I trusted you with the task of finding an appropriate new addition to our little circle, yet you have brought nothing but thugs and petty criminals. And I ask myself, why? I wonder Bella, whether you have truly put your heart into it…." he finished, his voice almost impossible to hear now.

Bellatrix looked perplexed. "I-I don't know what you mean My Lord. I am your most faithful Death Eater, I killed Sirius Black, and I have defeated the strongest Dark wizards I could find and persuade to join us here!"

"But I wonder Bella, are they really?" he asked. Bella cocked her head to the side, apparently still confused. "Were you afraid, perhaps, that this person might replace you in my inner circle. Or did you believe I would impressed by your defeat of this scum?"

"I confess," he continued coldly, "I am curious how you plan to stay in my good graces with your performance at the Ministry of Magic and again when you allowed the Stone to be stolen…."

Bellatrix flushed an angry red. "Neither of those failures were mine, My Lord! It was Lucius that fucked us at the Ministry and when the outpost came under attack I was sideswiped by Dolohov when Jacobs put the Imperious Curse on him!"

"Exactly!" Voldemort snarled impatiently. "Both times you were thwarted by Michael Jacobs! This is why I require someone else for the job. STRIKE has become more of a danger than I thought possible. They have built a team to stop me, with Jacobs at its head. I require someone to occupy them while I see to more important matters."

Bellatrix was extremely confused now. "But My Lord… the boy wasn't at the Ministry, was he? I certainly did not see him, or rest assured one of us would not be alive now," she finished confidently.

"Really Bella, I think you should count yourself rather fortunate you did not meet any STRIKE agents at the Ministry that night…that would be three strikes against you Bella… assuming they did overpower you.

"But regardless," he continued, a little louder, "no Jacobs was not fighting with the Order of the Phoenix last August. But that does not mean there was no danger present."

"One of them was STRIKE? One of the brats?" she asked sharply.

Voldemort sighed. "Not in the most literal sense. But with so much promise as genetics.… I am surprised you didn't notice, when by all reports, none of my most elite Death Eaters were able to put more than a scratch on her." Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he drew in a small amount of air. "I hear she resembles her mother. You knew the woman Bella, you didn't realize, years later, you had met her daughter?"

Bella's eyes widened with comprehension. "_Her_ _daughter _–?"

But she was interrupted by the door to a smaller room being thrown open, bathing the much darker room with light. Before the door swung closed again, Bella saw a mass of bodies lying on the floor, most covered in blood. All the other applicants she had brought to be tested were – quite violently – dead.

The man who entered was wearing plain black robes, his hood drawn over his face. Bella noticed that he didn't have a drop of blood on him, despite the massacre he had apparently just committed. She immediately felt slightly impressed. She had never been able to keep her robes clean during a bloodbath like that, not that she took much care to.

He stopped when he was within a few steps of the pair and crossed his arms. "Well…I suppose this is a bit awkward, isn't it? How _do _you introduce yourself to the Dark Lord?" he mused.

"With more respect than that!" Bellatrix immediately fired at him. Voldemort shook his head.

"A massacre worthy of Bellatrix is certainly one way of doing it," he said. Lord Voldemort was intrigued. "Why did you kill them?"

The man shrugged. "They would've just wasted time – none of them were really worth much, not up to the standards I know you require. And besides," he added with another one-shouldered shrug, "you would've just killed them yourself anyway."

Voldemort stared at the new entrant for a moment, then slowly turned to look at his lieutenant. "Bellatrix," he asked carefully, now idly running his fingers along his wand, "explain quickly why this man was not the first person in line. My time is _indeed _very valuable and our newcomer seems more concerned about it going to waste than you are."

"I didn't bring him My Lord!" Bellatrix burst out, her large eyes fixed on Voldemort's wand, trembling slightly. "He was not one of my recruits – !"

The man chuckled. "Well…in a way, I am actually." Bellatrix's head jerked away from her master and to the hooded man now. Her lower lip quivered. The hooded man gave her a tiny nod; meanwhile the lipless Voldemort had not moved his wand away from Bellatrix. The Dark Wizard addressed him. "Bellatrix did bring me here," he informed Voldemort. "I'm here because of her." There was a strange mixture of emotion in his tone now: pride, anger, and possibly something else close to sorrow. Voldemort looked back and forth between the two, did nothing for a moment, then began to lower his wand back to his side. Bellatrix breathed a sigh of relief.

"But all the same," the hooded man said, "she has wasted your time with substandard offerings. Why let her get off so easily?" Bellatrix's breath caught in her throat and now she was hit by dueling emotions – fear and fury in her case. Voldemort considered the man and despite her years of experience, Bellatrix had no idea what her master was thinking.

"An excellent point," Voldemort whispered. His wand was back on Bellatrix instantly. "_Crucio_!" Bellatrix flopped to the floor, writing like a fish left to bake on a riverbank. For a few seconds, she fought, she was able to hold back, but those brave seconds felt like hours and soon her Black pride was forgotten, replaced only by limitless pain. And then the curse was lifted and Voldemort was addressing the hooded man, who was paying more attention to her than her master.

"You understand of course to expect no less if you should fail?" Voldemort threatened quietly.

"That's irrelevant," the man replied. Bellatrix couldn't see his face, but she knew exactly what he was feeling, what he was thinking – it was exactly as she did herself in similar situations. He turned his face squarely down to her. "Sorry about that…" he offered, and she knew he was grinning, "couldn't resist." Bellatrix pushed herself onto her knees and planted her shaking palms against the ground. The hooded man held out a hand. Bellatrix stared at it, then at his covered face, then briefly at Voldemort, who seemed amused by the exchange. Her eyes moved back to the waiting hand up.

"It's only polite."

"Polite?" Bellatrix repeated in total disbelief.

"Exactly," confirmed the hooded man. He leaned down a little further to place his helping hand closer. Bellatrix blinked once more then, slowly, she reached out and grasped his hand with her own. As the man pulled up, she yanked down. Bellatrix caught him by surprise and he tumbled to the ground as she found her footing and drew her wand with her left hand. She quickly shot a red flash of light his direction, but he rolled out of the way and now had his own wand clutched in hand.

He shot his own yellow curse at Bella, who found it more difficult to block than she expected due to her offhanded wand placement. It staggered her backwards a few steps, giving the man time to jump to his feet. Bellatrix took the second he righted himself to shift her wand to her dominant hand, then immediately reengaged the Wizard. Each of her spells was met with one of his own, some spells exploding on contact, others ricocheting off at dangerous angles, and a few piercing straight through an inferior spell. The violent exchange had turned the dark room into a makeshift lightshow. Both combatants moved forward as the fought and before long they were nearly face to face. Bellatrix was angrier than ever – not only had he gotten her tortured by the Cruciatas Curse, he was making her look inept in front of her Lord, who had fallen back a few back a few paces to watch with a smile on his snake-face.

At this distance there was little room to dodge or maneuver, duels like this were really a contest of pure magical power, of who could fire off the most, the strongest spells. Bellatrix met his Stunner with one of his own and the room exploded in a blinding red light. Seizing her chance, Bellatrix rushed forward and extended her arm straight out. When a second had passed and the room was once again dimly lit, her wand was pointed straight into his face, actually under his still-on hood. Bellatrix blinked – she found herself in the same situation. Wizard and Witch stood frozen, panting heavily, wand arms shaking equally.

"Enough."

Voldemort had finally spoken. He stepped back towards the two again and Bella was hugely relieved to see he looked pleased. Bellatrix immediately lowered her wand; after a second the other man did as well. The hooded man chuckled a third time.

"Fun stuff…it's been a while," he said, slowly regaining his breath. "No hard feelings?" he asked her.

"None," Bellatrix replied, and then she grinned at the new man. She was as impressed as her Master appeared.

"Very few men can stand up to Bellatrix," Lord Voldemort stated. He inclined his head at her. "I am…impressed by one who could so nearly best her, even when surprised. I considered allowing the fight further, but I require you both in good health. The STRIKE group I want dead will not fall easily."

"STRIKE agents are overrated," the hooded man said easily. "They use their lack of reputation as a reputation. Only works if you're actually intimidated by them."

"And you are not?" Voldemort asked.

"What is Michael Jacobs?" the man countered. Bellatrix understood more and more who and what she was dealing with now. The more he spoke, the more sure she was. "STRIKE agent, American, leader, and traitor. I have experience killing all of those things."

"Traitor?" Voldemort repeated.

"The worst kind," the man replied. "If you start to treat Jacobs like a saint, you'll regret it. Don't underestimate what he's capable of."

"But you know?"

"Firsthand," the second Wizard answered. He displayed agitation for the first time. Voldemort quickly moved in on this.

"You've dealt with him before, then?"

"I've dealt with all of you…" was the quiet answer. "You," he nodded at Voldemort, "you," he pointed at Bellatrix, "and yes, with Michael too." He cracked his knuckles loudly.

"We have no idea who we are dealing with now," Bellatrix accused. "Show us your face."

The man's hands reached up to the sides of his hood and he pulled it down slowly, turning to reveal his face to Voldemort first so that Bellatrix had to lean to the side to make out more than an outline in the darkness around them.

He said nothing, he simply looked at Voldemort, ignoring Bellatrix. Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock and comprehension as the now uncloaked man raised his eyebrows, asking for a reaction.

Then his face broke into an evil grin and he threw back his head and laughed. Lord Voldemort laughed louder and louder, like he hadn't done in years. The sound of it echoed off the walls as Bellatrix recognized the man and her insane laughter joined her master's.


	9. Chapter 9: A Black Reunion

Harry was sitting on the ground under an old oak tree in the Weasley's back yard, not far from the spot he and his friends had been attacked by Death Eaters yesterday. He stared straight ahead, pulling up fistfuls of grass unconsciously. When he heard footsteps behind him, he didn't bother turning around.

Something large and hairy pressed up against him. He turned quickly and saw a black dog standing next to him. Harry blinked, forcing his eyes shut much longer than necessary to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He had seen this dog before. He knew this dog – this man.

"Sirius!" he said, the loudness of his voice surprising even himself. Without thinking Harry wrapped the dog in a hug around its neck; the dog merely barked at him. "Sirius you're – Sirius?" Harry looked down at the enormous dog and frowned. He wasn't reacting at all. Harry felt his heart break. It wasn't Sirius Black, just a black dog. He released the dog and dropped his arms weakly down.

He had gotten his hopes up for nothing. Sirius was dead – or missing – or something; he was away, in any case. Feelings of abandonment like Harry had never known swirled around Harry's head, then distilled to the rest of his body, draining any strength he had left. Harry looked down at his feet, but felt a weight on his shoulders.

The dog had jumped up on him, almost knocking Harry onto his back. The massive dog barked in his face and stared into his eyes. Harry immediately knew who he was looking back at. This close, there was no mistaking his godfather's Animagus form. Before Harry could say anything, the dog pushed off Harry's shoulders, rearing back on two legs. The transformation from dog to man meant he never landed back on all four legs. The far too shaggy hair of a man replaced dirty fur, two long legs supported him rather than four, and suddenly, Sirius Black stood before Harry, grinning, tears in his eyes.

Perhaps one tiny bit of Harry whispered a warning: That this could not be Sirius, that it was an imposter, that it was impossible, that he was dead…But Harry's heart overpowered his brain – as it often did – and he was absolutely sure his godfather was back.

"Sirius?" was all he could muster.

"Harry." Sirius' voice was stronger than Harry remembered. Harry looked him up and down – by and large he looked almost exactly like he had the last time Harry had seen him. Yet now he seemed happier, stronger. The only time Harry had seen him like this was during the short time between the suggestion Harry come live with him and its demise when Wormtail escaped.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say so instead he unashamedly engulfed him a huge hug, which Sirius returned with interest. They broke apart and Sirius looked at him, and Harry knew there were tears in his own eyes. Neither man felt shamed by them, the moment was too important to feel anything other than joy, admittedly mixed with confusion and intrigue.

"I thought you were dead," Harry told Sirius. Saying it outright was necessary, any tip-toeing or feigned disinterest would only make the situation stranger. Harry hated saying it, yet found the words somewhat easier now that they were phrased as a question rather than a statement.

"I…well I think I was," Sirius said quietly. "I don't know. I wasn't," he added finally. "No, I wasn't dead. I'm back now. I'm here, with you Harry."

"But- but how?" Harry spluttered suddenly. "You- I saw you fall through the Veil! Bellatrix killed you!"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a shout from the direction of the Burrow.

"SIRIUS?"

"Ron, what are you talking about?"

Harry could tell Ron and Hermione were on their way down to where he and Sirius were standing. Harry doubted whether they could see them very well as they were concealed behind the large oak.

The argument was easier to make out as they got closer.

"Ron, just because you saw a black dog doesn't mean Sirius is back!" Hermione was saying irritably.

"That guy was about to tell Harry something about him!" Ron retorted angrily.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Someone's talking about me?" he asked Harry.

"Err…yeah," he told Sirius. "He actually just left…we had a run in with some Death Eaters and met him – Michael Jacobs. Do you know him?"

Sirius nodded slightly but was unable to answer though as Ron and Hermione had apparently spotted them. Harry flinched at the earsplitting high pitched sequel.

"Oh my God! Sirius!" Hermione shrieked, stopping dead in her tracks.

While disbelief had divided them only a moment ago, now the pair stood united by pure shook. "Wow" Ron said, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face. "Okay, now I see money, piles of Galleons on my lawn. We're swimming in treasure…." He opened his eyes and look around hopefully, as though actually expecting to see gold strewn across the grass.

"Oh well," he said in a disappointed voice, "thought I might have found a new power, making things the way I picture them. But Sirius!" he said, shaking his head rapidly, "its…well it's good to see you mate!"

"Ron, I appreciate the enthusiasm," Sirius grinned – Harry suddenly felt a great surge of happiness at seeing this – "but if that were true, wouldn't you and Hermione be doing something other than arguing?"

Hermione and Ron both looked mortified as Sirius laughed at himself. Harry couldn't help himself; he joined in as well.

"But Sirius, how can you be here?" Hermione asked, turning a deep red as the other two continued to laugh. "You got murdered!" she said loudly causing them both to stop laughing and turn to look at her, along with Ron, which made her blush – if possible – an even deeper red.

"It's a long story," Sirius sighed her. "And I'll tell you all I can, but first let's get into the house, I'm sure Molly would be so disappointed if I didn't stop in to say hello," he said with a small smile. Sirius and Mrs. Weasley had never gotten along very well, but Harry knew she would be as thrilled to see him alive as anyone else.

They agreed and began the trip back to the Burrow. After the Weasleys had finished exclaiming over Sirius' return from the dead and everyone had settled down in the sitting room, Sirius began his story.

"Well, as you all know, I got into some trouble in the Department of Mysteries a while ago. I let my guard down and acted exactly like she thought I would…and I got beat by my cousin, Bellatrix. She didn't kill me though." At this Sirius stopped, seemingly expecting someone to interrupt him. No one did, however and he carried on.

"She only Stunned me, but the force of the spell did push me through the Veil. After that, darkness. Nothing but darkness. But I knew I wasn't dead. I was alive, at least in some way, but I wasn't conscious, really. Maybe…an enchanted sleep is the best way to describe it. Then I woke up."

"Sorry," Harry interrupted, "but you woke up?"

"I suppose, I can't really think of a better way to put it," Sirius confirmed. "So yes, I woke up. I was lying in front of the Veil, right about where I was when the Curse hit me. I was still wearing the same robes and everything."

"So you just…appeared…outside in the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione asked slowly. "How did you get out?"

Sirius didn't say anything at first and Harry wondered whether Sirius knew the answer himself. "I…I had help," he eventually said. "I was…pulled out…of that place."

"By who?" Mr. Weasley asked. He seemed, if not the most interested, the most concerned, by Sirius' story. Harry knew why Mr. Weasley was keen on keeping up with any secrets that might be going on in the Ministry, just a few floors down from where he worked.

"I…I can't say," Sirius muttered.

"Why not?" Harry demanded, very eager to know by whom and through what means Sirius had been returned to him.

"I made a Vow," Sirius said sadly. "An Unbreakable Vow. To the people who helped me," he added after a second of deliberation. "The…people who helped me…are secretive. I suppose it's for good reason, but even after pulling me out of there, they don't fully trust me. I've had to swear to tell none of their secrets, or anything about them."

Every word Sirius spoke came out slowly and thoughtfully. Harry wasn't sure exactly what an Unbreakable Vow was – though everyone else had sobered considerably at the mention of it – but it was obvious Sirius took this promise very seriously.

"Did…did Michael Jacobs have something to do with this?" Harry asked. He attempted to phrase his question vaguely, in the hopes that Sirius would be able to answer in kind.

"He was involved," Sirius replied. "He…well, he helped. Look," he added in a desperate way, "I'm not trying to keep things from you." He was plainly addressing Harry here. "Last year I told you things the Order never wanted you to know…but I _can't _this time. These…these people don't want to kill me, they don't want me to die from breaking the Vow. They just want to operate quietly."

"So you're working with someone else?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Not with the Order anymore?" There was nothing accusing in her tone, which Harry was thankful for.

"They want to me to stay with them until they're sure I can be trusted," Sirius said bitterly. "After that I'm free to go, but for now I'm running jobs with them. Of course if I had known about the Death Eaters here…I'd have been here sooner. I'm not actually supposed to be here at all, actually," he added, now smiling a little at the disobedience. "But…damn I hope this isn't considered breaking the Vow, but Michael helped me get over to see you all. He has more pull than most people with…us.

"And that," he sighed heavily, "is all I can tell you."

Harry had a feeling what was coming next. "You're not staying though, are you?"

Sirius frowned and Harry had his answer. At least Sirius didn't look any happier than he did. "I can't Harry…I can't." He looked angry now. "I want to, you know I do! But…I'm not even supposed to be here. But hopefully I'll be free of the Vow soon, then I can come back. Just don't forget, everyone, that I'm still out there fighting Voldemort, just like you all are."

Harry didn't say anything. In truth, he was extremely angry that Sirius was being taken away again. But at least this time Harry had been given a promise to see him again…for now, it would have to do.


	10. Chapter 10: The Veil and the Girl

It had been a few weeks since Sirius had arrived and Ron had decided not to tell the rest of his family about the connection to Darothril.

"Mum, I'm telling you! He just wanted to know if Ginny was available!"

Harry actually thought that this was a rather good lie. It was certainly plausible. Ginny was, Harry thought, a very attractive girl. The only was downside was that Ginny, who had now been released from the hospital, seemed keenly interested in what Michael had said about her.

The night before their return to school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were relaxing in Ron's room, Harry rather drowsy after the large dinner Mrs. Weasley, who had believed Ron's lie, had prepared. At around eleven, Hermione was just getting up from where she was sprawled across Ron's bed when Ginny crept in. She shut the door behind her and walked over to stand next to Harry, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

"So," she began, "what did he really tell you lot?"

"I told you," Ron said irritably, "he wanted to know a bit more about you. Not that I'd tell him anything…"

"Oh please," she said, sounding just as annoyed as Ron, "Mum might have believed you, but I know that's not at all what he wanted. I want to know before we go back to Hogwarts, so out with it."

Ron looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"Come on Ron," Hermione said, sounding slightly amused, "I was just shocked your Mum believed you! I mean," she giggled, "it was alright right up to the point when you told us all about how you punched him in the face and sent him running with a broken nose."

Ginny, who had never actually seen Michael due to her being unconscious throughout the time he was with them, had been filled in on everything about him, though with the story altered at some parts, by the Trio.

"It's a shame though," she said wistfully, "he sounded like a good guy. And if he's as cute as Hermione says…"

"I'm kidding!" she said quickly, ignoring Hermione's color changing to the deepest pink it had ever been, but noticing Harry's look of horror. There wasn't anything official between them, but she had always liked Harry, and lately wondered if he felt the same.

"Really!" she laughed, "I don't think I'd much fancy dating a guy who can just disappear in flames anytime I want to talk!' she said, trying to reassure Harry that she had no plans to date anyone else anytime soon.

"Fine, fine!" Ron growled. "I'll tell you. So there's these seven items…"

He explained everything about the Slytherin Seven and the Weasley's link to him. He misspoke more than a few times during his story, Harry and Hermione filling in the parts he got wrong. It was about thirty minutes later when they stopped talking and decided to go to bed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione woke up early and headed into the kitchen. No one ate much breakfast, all were nervous about the trip to the station. None of them would admit it, but the attack on the Burrow had unsettled all of them. They were to be accompanied by Aurors, but after seeing what had happened to the few that had been guarding the Burrow, Harry's confidence was shaken.

Harry's fears were unfounded however, and the group arrived at Platform 9 ¾ without incident. At least, until they had passed through the barrier and the Hogwarts express came into view. The Auror who was with Harry gripped his arm painfully and spun around as a tired voice called out to him. "Hey Harry! Ron, Hermione!"

To his great surprise Harry saw Michael, Sarah, and Jeff walking over to him. All were wearing black Hogwarts robes, though they had no coloring in the lining. Michael looked extremely tired and was walking slightly slower than Jeff and Sarah, who had a slight spring in her step and looked wide awake.

Ron and Hermione had also swiveled around and shared his mild surprise. "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked as they came to a stop. Harry noticed the Aurors were looking at them rather unpleasantly.

"Well, remember when we said we'd see you soon?" she said brightly. Michael rubbed his eyes wearily. "This is our mission."

"Wait," Michael said sharply, "you two can go," he said to the Aurors. When they did nothing but glower at him he said in a low voice, "Do you really want to do this right now? I did not come here to fight _Aurors_. So please – shove off."

The two Aurors looked at each other for a moment, and then sent a last annoyed look at Michael. They released their grips on Harry and Hermione's arms and disappeared into the crowd of people on the platform.

"I thought you were supposed to destroy," Ron dropped his voice, "the Slytherin Seven. Or have you found one?" he said, looking suddenly nervous.

Michael shook his head. "No, we haven't got any leads on the Seven. But we do have a new mission." He paused. "We have a…a different job too. We're coming with you, basically."

"Coming with us?" Hermione repeated.

"As students," Jeff supplied shortly. "Your classmates. Transfer students from Salem to anyone who asks."

"We're here partially to watch out for you," Michael told Ron. When he opened his mouth Michael added, "We need you to get rid of the Seven, we need to make sure you stay safe. With you and Harry there, well…your school's probably a target."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "Our leader – General Staffon – offered us to Dumbledore for support. He doesn't know about the Seven…or maybe he does," Michael added thoughtfully. "_We _didn't tell him about it, but from what I hear about Dumbledore, he knows everything. I met him once before when I was in the Aurors, he agreed to take us on. He will be the only other person here who knows who we are."

"So you're just here to keep us all safe…while you wait to find out more about that Ring?" Ron summarized. All three STRIKE agents looked at each other. Michael rubbed the back of his neck.

"Basically…yeah. I – look," Michael was suddenly irritated, "I have something I want to talk to you three about later."

Now the other trio took their turns to exchange looks. "Something else to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked quietly. Michael was becoming more aware of people stopping to look at them; the six of them had been standing in one place for a very long time. The train seemed ready to leave.

"No," he said quickly. "Something personal. Don't worry about it right now. Lead the way, let's get on board."

"It's going to be nice," said Sarah. "We basically get a few months off active duty. It'll be great. No fighting, no planning, no…killing."

Jeff snorted suddenly. "Sarah, do you really think Staffon would have given this job to us if there wasn't going to be trouble? Trust me, there's going to be fighting, and don't forget, the Seven are still our main mission so there will be planning, and yes, probably killing."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other frightfully. Michael knew what they were thinking: Killing? At Hogwarts?

"Hopefully," Michael said, not keen to come off immediately as bloodthirsty, "the two jobs won't ever meet. If everything goes right, we'll just hang around the school this year as students and we'll deal with the Seven when the time comes."

The six of them, Ginny having run off with some friends when they got on the platform, hurried onto the train and found an empty compartment towards the back. As soon as they had all settled in comfortably Ron rounded on Michael. "All right, it's a long ride so, out with it. Tell us everything" he said in an uncharacteristically forceful voice.

Harry wasn't sure what had gotten into him. Ron was usually not the one giving orders, especially not to people he barely knew. But then Hermione patiently answered his question.

"Ron, I know you're worried about all the business with the Ring of Four, but don't order people around."

Jeff waved his hand and shook his head. "Anyone have something to wake me up?" he asked Michael and Sarah.

Sarah sighed and stood up. She pulled her trunk down into her lap and began rummaging through it. She pulled out a vial of green potion and handed it to him.

"I don't know what you two were thinking," she said with a sigh. "You knew we had to get up early today, what the hell were you doing drinking?"

"You could've come" Michael said, taking the bottle from Jeff and draining the remaining half. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and casually tossed the empty bottle out of the open window. "It was fun – and probably the last time we'll see everyone for a while."

Sarah shook her head. "I was with my own friends."

The potion seemed to be doing Jeff and Michael good. Both were now sitting up straight, grinning. "Sarah's friends are no fun," Michael nodded at the other three. "That's why she's friends with us more than them – they don't drink."

"They don't drink enough," Sarah muttered.

"Stop it!" Ron cried suddenly. "Every time you're about to tell us anything, you change the subject to some stupid thing! Just tell us who the hell you are and why I have to finish your damn business for you!"

"First of all," Michael said, his voice like ice, "It's your family that created the Ring, so it's actually your business. And second, you're right."

Ron blinked. "I'm right?" he repeated.

"I'm sorry we keep changing the subject. It's just I'm so used to secrecy it's kind've become a habit. So just ask, and I'll tell you whatever you want."

"Okay" Harry said at once, "How did you bring back Sirius?"

"Well, you were there at the Ministry last June. You know he got hit by a curse from Lestrange and fell through the Veil."

"Exactly" said Hermione. "He died."

"You don't know much about that Veil do you?" Michael asked politely.

"Of course I do!" she said indignantly. "The Ministry used to use it execute criminals. They stopped using it around a hundred years ago. After that everyone got sent to Azkaban, regardless of the severity of their crime."

"Once again, you're right in the basics but wrong in the details. Like the fact that the Veil does not kill the person who passes through it. The Ministry started that rumor to frighten potential criminals.

"The Veil is actually a huge prison, designed to hold the absolute worst criminals till they die, in a reality separate from our own."

"So why would the Death Eaters not all be in the Veil rather than Azkaban? And why wouldn't they just kill them anyway?" Harry asked.

"Ever notice how, apart from Voldemort, no Dark Lord has ever held onto power for very long? Not over here at least." He gestured out the window at the English countryside rushing by them.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "In the end they're either killed by Aurors, other Dark Wizards, or thrown into the Veil."

"Well time for a little history lesson. Here's how it would go: The Veil would be full of dark wizards. There would be one Dark Lord running around. So if it seemed as if the Aurors and later STRIKE would fail, the Ministry would employ a new tactic. They would open up the Veil and take out the two strongest dark wizards who were currently imprisoned. They would then ask them to make the Unbreakable Vow.

"They would promise to do everything they could to stop the current reigning Dark Lord and then to renounce the Dark Arts. If they were successful they would be freed and allowed to live the rest of their lives bound by their word never to practice Dark Magic again. It's interesting to note however, that the Vow only required them to give up Dark Magic once the enemy was dead. They were free to use any means they saw fit to defeat their prey."

"That's… that's just plain corrupt!" Hermione exclaimed. To Harry, however, it actually seemed like a good idea. The Vow didn't seem to have any loop holes that Harry could see, and it appeared to save innocent lives to use one dark wizard to defeat another.

"And as to why the Death Eaters aren't all in the Veil. Well, obviously to get the Dark Wizards out, someone has to open the Veil to set them free. Very few people have this power. Unfortunately, Voldemort is one of those people. So there would be no point, as Voldemort would simply open the Veil and free them."

"So you opened the Veil and rescued Sirius?" Harry asked. Michael shook his head.

"No, I can't do it. But I did bring it to our leader's attention and he got it done."

"But how did you know he fell through the Veil? The papers all said he was killed in the fighting."

Michael smiled. "I know because it is my job to know."

"So tell us about your job then," said Hermione.

Jeff and Sarah turned to look at him questioningly, as if asking if it was all right to answer. Michael took a deep breath.

"We work for STRIKE, which is basically an underground group that works to keep people safe. A little like the Order of the Phoenix, except they focus only on Voldemort. STRIKE is much larger and runs a lot more operation. Came into existence in nineteen-forty six, after the Muggles had their last big war. We've never really been public, but several top ranking Ministry and other world officials know about us. Most of the Aurors know too, but then that's probably because they recognize me."

Ron stared at him and Michael felt uncomfortable. "You were an Auror? Why on earth would you give that up?"

Michael's face darkened and Ron looked slightly taken aback.

"I spent six months with the Aurors," Michael said quietly. "Jeff and Sarah were still in America at the time and I didn't know very many people here. I had a partner, he joined up about the same time I did. We weren't great friends, but like I said, I didn't know many other people. Voldemort killed him when Rufus Scrimgeour sent us on a mission he knew was a trap. He didn't tell us so we would act as bait…I survived because the other Aurors showed up. Voldemort got away and I got this," Michael gestured to the scar along his temple. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked nauseated. "That was my last night as an Auror. STRIKE found me in London a few days later and I joined up as soon as they asked."

Ron didn't ask any more questions about his job, so Harry asked him another.

"Where'd you go to school?" he asked.

"Oh," Michael smiled again, glad to change the subject, "Salem Memorial University, back in the States. Its named after the Witch hunts. Jeff and Sarah did too until a while ago.

"So how did you end up here anyway?" Harry asked. "You're a long way from home, did you just come to be an Auror?"

"Well, yes and no," Michael said, shrugging. "See the American Magic Corps, or AMC, wanted, well not so much a spy, but an agent inside the British Ministry, and the Aurors wanted me. I was only sixteen so my parents, that is my foster parents didn't want me to go, but they understood what a threat Voldemort is so they allowed it and a few days later I arrived here in Britain with a bag of Galleons and a suitcase full of dreams."

Harry couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"I don't mean to offend –" Hermione began.

"Go ahead, offend," Jeff urged her. Sarah laughed; Michael scowled.

"- but why did they choose you?" Hermione went on. "You seem very capable, don't get me wrong, but why did they pick someone so young, out of school, to come over here?"

Michael leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "You know, I really have no idea. I've asked the same question to myself – and a few others – and never got an answer. Someone recommended me, and it was enough to have the AMC throw out their other candidates and hand me a Portkey. No idea who the hell would say that about me, never mind someone with the influence to make it happen."

"Anyway like I said, I was with the Aurors for a few months. Then things went bad and I watched first friend I made here in Britain die in front of me. Not a fun experience."

"And you really fought with You-Know-Who?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yes. Let me tell you: Anything you hear about his power is not an exaggeration. He was…he was fucking terrifying." Michael looked at Harry, who had been watching him closely. "You agree?" Harry nodded.

"Its…I haven't really talked to anyone else who actually fought with him."

"When Owen and I squared off against him, there was… nothing I could do. The two of us held our own for a while, but then Owen went down…." Michael sighed. "Voldemort was about to finish me, but the Aurors showed up and intervened."

"After that, I had a few words for Scrimgeour, none of which I can repeat in front of a lady. He told me to deal with it or walk. Idiot. He thought I would only do one. I told him to go to hell and that I would never work with him again.

"I was living in a little apartment in London then, and for the next few days the only company I had was a nice bottle of Firewhiskey…A couple bottles actually. I was just starting to sober up when there was a knock on the door. I was still too drunk to really care who it was, so I just ignored it and hoped whoever it was would go away. Couple seconds later my door falls down and there are three guys in black armor are standing in my house. Naturally I tried to kill them."

"You tried to kill them?" Hermione asked, her voice much higher than usual.

"Well, I may be exaggerating a little," Michael conceded with a small smile, "but I wasn't in a mood to be very civil to anyone in dark robes busting down my door. And I said I was _starting_ to sober up. So we had ourselves a little altercation. It took a bit more than I expected, but I Disarmed and Stunned two of them. I was just about to raise the hostilities when an older man stepped inside as well.

"I was pretty angry, and I assumed they were some kind of Dark Wizards, if not the Death Eaters themselves. But I just knew that this was a guy I didn't want to screw with. It wasn't just that I didn't think I could beat him, but that I really didn't want to have any kind of fight with this guy. Pretty similar to the feeling you get around Dumbledore, you know? A kind of power in the air.

"The old guy told me his name was Staffon, and that he was leader of a group called STRIKE. Said it stood for Strength, Tactics, Resourcefulness, Intelligence, Killer-Instinct, and Excellence – the qualities that embody a STRIKE agent.

"Apparently they were impressed by me like the Aurors were, but they knew what needed to be done to stop Voldemort. No politics, no bullshit. So I said I would on one condition. I made them offer Jeff and Sarah the choice to join too."

"We just finished school" Sarah explained, "And we wanted to come and help fight, but after what Michael wrote us about the Aurors, we knew that it wasn't for us. General Staffon said that if we were willing to risk our lives and join STRIKE then he had no place stopping us. So we headed over here and we were all together again." She smirked, satisfied. "Voldemort didn't know what hit him. Something wrong?" she added, as Ron had half convulsed at the sound of Voldemort's name.

"A lot of people here have a problem saying Voldemort's name," Harry said, as Hermione rolled her eyes. "He did a lot of damage here last time; I guess you Americans wouldn't be as… terrified of him."

Jeff glared at him. "What do you mean 'You Americans?'"

Harry started. "Uh, I mean… I just-"

But Jeff was laughing. "I'm kidding!" he said. He grinned for the first time since they had met the Trio. "I get it. He's a monster, and he's done a lot of terrible things here. We're here to try and stop him doing any more. I do have a theory about all that though."

"What?" asked Michael, smiling to himself, sure he was about to say something ill  
suited for Sarah or Hermione's ears.

"I figured out why Voldemort's such a jerk off."

Michael sighed, he saw that coming. "Well, Jeff, enlighten us: Why is Voldemort such a jerk off?"

"Because he never gets any," Jeff replied at once and with all certainty.

"Of course," Michael said, clapping a hand to his forehead, "how did we not see it earlier? It's so simple! All we have to do is get Voldemort laid!" Both turned to look mischievously at Sarah, who was the only one not laughing.

"Hey Sarah, you said you wanted to stop Voldemort, right…?"

"Yeah, it's a service to the world!" Jeff said earnestly.

"Oh wait, I forgot" Michael said seriously. "Sarah's a woman; she wouldn't have sex with anyone, even to save the world. Actually, _she _probably –"

Jeff started to reply, but was cut short as a jet of blue light hit him in the face, causing his mouth to completely disappear. Michael soon fell victim to the same spell from Sarah's wand. She calmly put away her wand and ran a hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with these two," she said to Hermione, indicating Jeff and Michael, who were somehow still making strange noises that sounded like laughter.

"They may be good for little things like fighting Dark Lords, but they're painfully lacking in other ways."

"Its fine," Hermione said, with a slight smile. "I've gotten used to hearing rather similar things from my, alas, best friends."

Ron looked indignant, but Harry knew better than to contradict her. She did have a point….

Sarah choose to mercifully return Michael and Jeff's ability of speech about twenty minutes later after Jeff had tried to communicate that he was going to go to the bathroom, though without words. They spent the rest of the train ride trading stories and jokes, getting to know each other better. Michael was beginning to decide he liked all three of them – in particular Ron – when the train came to a stop.

They gathered their belongings and exited the train. Michael heard a couple people inquire to Harry about himself and his friends, but Harry quickly brushed most of them aside. Michael knew their appearance would be noticed; new sixth year students weren't common at any school. Hermione led them over to a fleet of carriages, all attached to a pair of ugly, skeletal horses. Jeff touched Sarah on the arm and gestured at them. Harry looked over at them.

"So you can all see them?" he asked Michael, Jeff, and Sarah. "You've all seen someone…?"

Michael looked at him almost pityingly. "We're at war, Harry. I hope you never have to see anyone die again, but…well, like I said. We're in a war."

"But that's why we're here," Sarah piped up. "We're supposed to keep the school safe from, as you so eloquently put it, Jeff, jerk offs like Voldemort." The group loaded their trunks into the carriages and climbed in. The Threstals immediately began the slow journey to the castle. Michael looked up at it with awe, he had never seen any building this large. He supposed STRIKE's headquarters might be comparable, but it was hard to judge.

"And find the Seven," Michael reminded Sarah. "If Voldemort gets a hold of any of them, there won't be anything we or Dumbledore or anyone else can do to stop him."

"Yeah," she said flippantly, "but if we haven't found anymore, what are the odds he will?"

"Yeah, I know. He's only Lord Voldemort," Jeff said sarcastically.

"And we're us," she said confidently.

"And you really think we have a chance?" Ron asked quickly.

All three STRIKE agents smirked.

"I do," Michael said steadily. "You'll see. In fact, you may do more than see…"

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "You want to teach them?"

"To –?" Sarah made a quiet "_whoooo_," befuddling the Trio and greatly amusing Jeff.

"Yeah, you think it's a good idea? It's not an easy trick to learn," Michael inquired of the others.

"We'll learn," Hermione said immediately. Jeff laughed.

"They're being hunted by Voldemort himself," Sarah told him. "I think it's a good idea actually. From three to six…the Death Eaters wouldn't know what to do!" She looked more and more excited.

"About what?" Ron asked a little suspiciously.

"A certain ability the three of us worked a while for" Michael said. "Something the Death Eaters really, really don't like to see. Took us a while, but I figure you could learn… Hey, that a Knut?" he asked suddenly, bending down to grope around the floor as a carriage carrying a group of Ravenclaws passed by.

"Oh, I guess we forgot Michael's third job while we're here," Sarah said smugly to Jeff, who smirked down at him.

"There's no Knut down there, mate" he said. "But you might check around for your balls, which you seem to have lost."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched the exchange with bewildered looks. Michael sat back up, looking disgruntled.

"Michael and Voldemort have one thing in common," Jeff explained. "Lady troubles."

"Lady _trouble_" Sarah corrected him, while Michael flipped him the finger. "He's only got trouble with one lady."

"Next time you two get cornered by Death Eaters and Werewolves" Michael muttered darkly, "call someone else."

Hermione seemed to have figured something out. "Michael?"

"Humph?"

"Why did you ask us about Luna Lovegood at Ron's house when we first met?"

"I've told you everything you wanted to know," Michael said shortly. "I'd prefer to keep some things to myself." Seeing the look on his face, Hermione seemed to decide he was right.


	11. Chapter 11: An Angry Demonstration

The carriages finally came to a stop before the enormous doors leading to the Great Hall and the six teens jumped out. Harry took in the familiar sights with a smile, obviously glad to be back at the place he felt most at home. Michael, Jeff, and Sarah copied him: Michael looked impressed, Jeff slightly apprehensive, Sarah excited. Then Ron tapped him on the shoulder.

"Let's get inside, I'm hungry" he complained.

"Can't you think of anything but food for once Ron?" Hermione asked disdainfully. "They probably want to look around first!" she said, gesturing at the other three.

"Are you kidding?" Michael said, stunned. "I'm starving. Half the reason I agreed to come here was because Dumbledore said the food was amazing."

Hermione rolled her eyes as the four boys hurried into the Hall, Ron pointing out something to the new arrivals as they went. The two girls followed, and Sarah addressed Hermione in a low voice as several Hufflepuffs ran by.

"I know this is your castle…" Sarah began. She slowed her walk and looked sideways at Hermione, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "But keep your hands off them. They're mine."

Hermione stared blankly at the other girl, who didn't flinch. They had reached the Great Hall and were now navigating their way to the long Gryffindor table. "I…I wouldn't," Hermione assured her. "I just met – why are you laughing?"

"I won a bet," Sarah chuckled. "I get Jeff's Galleon. He thought you'd go right for them."

Hermione flushed and bit her lip. "So you're not with either of them?"

Sarah laughed again. "With them?" she repeated. "Really?"

"Well, the way Jeff was looking at you…" she shrugged.

They joined the others at the table and conversation became nearly impossible over the commotion. "Shut up" Sarah shot at her, "Just because I don't have Weasley after me…"

"You know he didn't realize I was a girl until our fourth year" Hermione said with a sigh. The group was seated at the very back end of the table, with Michael and Jeff having no one but their companions around them.

Harry and Ron were introducing Michael and Jeff to a few other sixth years including Neville Longbottom. Glancing over at the Slytherin table, she saw Draco Malfoy giving Michael and Jeff a look of unnatural hatred. Was it just that he had noticed two new Gryffindors, or was there something else?

Hermione sat down next to Ron at the end, Sarah on her other side. She addressed Michael, who was on Ron's left.

"Have you already met Draco Malfoy?" she asked Michael, indicating Draco on the other side of the Hall.

"Malfoy?" he said quietly, turning to look at him. "I've met his dad, but never him. Looks like his daddy's been telling him stories though." He drummed his fingers on the table. "This…complicates things. Ah well. Maybe he'll be more pleasant than his dad."

"No…he hates Gryffindors and Muggleborns on principle too," Hermione said coolly.

"Well, maybe I can at least have some fun this year," Michael muttered evilly. But Harry shook his head.

"I wouldn't count on it" he said, "not if you're taking Potions."

"Why not?" Jeff asked him. "Me and Michael are taking the same classes as you and Ron, and Sarah's going be with Hermione. You're not taking anything really hard, are you?"

"That's why" said Ron, pointing over at the staff table, to the place on Dumbledore's left. A man with dirty black hair sat there, looking scornfully down at the students.

Michael dropped his gleeful smirk. "I know him. Or I know _about _him," he corrected himself. "Some of my people keep telling me he's a Death Eater. Then I have others saying he works for Dumbledore. I…have no idea. I've never ran across him out marauding in the night, so I guess that's something."

Harry sighed rather loudly; Ron and Hermione looked at him. "You think he's playing for the other team?" Sarah asked Harry.

"He's foul," Harry said with disdain. "I…"

"He's a Death Eater," Ron whispered with certainty. He nodded at the other three. "Maybe you can do something about that…?" He winked; Michael shook his head.

"Undercover…" he reminded Ron. Then he looked seriously at he and Harry. "Unless he fails me on an exam. Then I'll kill him myself."

"I think we should stop making jokes around Hermione," Sarah said sympathetically as Hermione was unable to hide her gasp. "She doesn't think they're very funny."

"You'll learn…" Ron said under his breath.

"You've faced Voldemort before, right?" Harry asked Michael, who nodded. "It takes similar skills to survive Snape's Potions class."

Jeff started to say something, but stopped immediately as Dumbledore rose to speak. The entire Hall quieted in a matter of seconds. He looked around at them fatherly – rather, grandfatherly.

"For most, welcome back to Hogwarts and for our new friends, welcome! As I'm sure you are all malnourished and slowly wasting away, I'll make my speech as short as my duty as Headmaster allows –"

"He's not going to say anything about us, is he?" Jeff whispered.

"Nah, he knows we're staying low," Michael assured him. "We're just a few transfer students from the US whose parents dragged us over here for the work in international magical relations…." He winked at Ron, for Harry and Hermione were paying more attention to Dumbledore's speech than to his.

"How about that?" Sarah was saying. She was looking down at her robes; Michael copied her. The lining of his robes had turned a deep scarlet.

Ron hit Michael on the back. "Looks like you're official now" he said happily. "Just don't count on getting too friendly with the Slytherins."

Michael glanced again at the Slytherin table, where there was an almost universal glare aimed in his direction. "I don't think I have to worry about that."

"I would also like to welcome Professor Slughorn back to Hogwarts" Dumbledore went on. A large wizard who Michael had somehow not noticed until now stood up and took a small bow as everyone applauded him politely, the Slytherins more enthusiastically. "Professor Slughorn was gracious enough to agree to return to teach Potions for a year," All around the room, eyes were widening and people began whispering quickly to each other. "While Professor Snape will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The Slytherin Table burst into applause, while the Gryffindors stared around at each other. Michael looked around. "Well…Harry? What the hell is that about? Why is an ex-Death Eater teaching us how to fight Death Eaters? He _was _a Death Eater, right? I'm not crazy?"

"Yeah, he was!" said Harry, who had not forgotten. "Why would Dumbledore-?"

"I was under the impression you were all very hungry" Dumbledore said from his place at the head of the Hall. "If you have any desire to eat tonight, it would be wise to allow me to finish my speech."

Total silence fell immediately. Dumbledore looked around at them all, and then his face softened. "The only thing I have left to say to you is this: Be careful. We have extra protection this year, including an Auror guard," Michael rolled his eyes scornfully, "and many new protective enchantments. Be that as it may, I cannot stress enough how important it is to be on the lookout for anything you find suspicious. Now that I've said my peace, let's eat!"

At the last word, plates and huge amounts of food appeared on the table before them. Michael looked up and down the table, apparently unable to decide what to go for first. Ron and Jeff both said, "Finally" and pulled equally enormous piles of food towards them.

Michael finally decided on a large assortment of food, managing to fit about ten different kinds of food on his plate.

"So what classes do we have tomorrow?" he asked Harry, slapping Ron on the back as he choked on the turkey leg that had found its way down his throat.

"No idea," Harry said thickly, working on a bit of treacle tart. "Professor McGonagall will give us our class lists tomorrow." Michael nodded silently. He returned his attention to his food, his mind beginning to drift as he ran through the job assigned to him once more. It was only when he had finished off the chicken on his plate and Ron tapped him on the shoulder that he returned to the world.

"Neville's talking to you," Ron told him, indicating the boy sitting a spot down from them. Michael stared for a moment.

"Oh." He shook his head rapidly and smiled. "Sorry, taking in the new school. What's up?"

The boy stumbled through his opening question, but apart from that faux pas he seemed like a very pleasant person. Michael learned over the course of dinner he was good friends with Harry and his friends, as well as a good student of Herbology. As Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan joined in on the conversation, Michael's mind began to wonder again.

It wasn't often he got jobs like this and the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with what Sarah had said earlier. This really wasn't a bad job at all. His espionage was usually more in the realm of itemizing information on people, then killing or arresting them. This was something different. Sure, he was still after the Seven and there was certainly a threat Voldemort might make a move, but for now…he could just be seventeen. He could talk casually with people his own age, without also debating the best way to kill them.

But as his mind drifted from the conversation, so did his eyes. He looked over at the Hufflepuffs, clad in yellow lined robes and calling out to friends at other tables around the Hall, past the Slytherins, a few of whom he recognized as the children of Death Eaters, and finally settled his eyes on the Ravenclaw table. Michael's heart began to beat faster as he took note of faces. The Great Hall really was huge, and with the Ravenclaws seated on the far side of the Hall, it was impossible to distinguish much more about any one person than hair color. Michael sighed, shook his head, swallowed his heart, and returned to conversation with Neville.

After dinner was finished, everyone got up from their tables and headed up to their House common rooms. However, everyone attempting to leave the Hall through two different doors, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs going one way and the Ravenclaws and Slytherins another, resulted in a massive clog which took the teachers and Prefects, including Ron and Hermione, a while to resolve.

Harry led Michael, Jeff, and Sarah up the moving staircases, through the Fat Lady's portrait at the mention of "Blast Ended Hippogriff", and into the Gryffindor common room. Harry pointed towards the girls' dorm and Sarah vanished into it after wishing them good night, then accompanied Michael and Jeff up to the boys'.

The dorm had been magically enlarged to fit Michael and Jeff, so that they, Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus could all fit comfortably. Michael made introductions to Dean and Seamus, who bought his parents-in-government story without much question. Dean questioned him about Muggle sports, something Michael was woefully ignorant of. After shaking his head sadly, Dean left him alone, but seemed friendly.

Michael changed into his nightclothes, laid down on his bed with his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes. It was painful, being here. In many ways this was one of the best jobs he had ever had with STRIKE: He had a safe home, good food, mostly friendly company, and a passive primary mission. Michael's stomach churned unhappily.

He got back to his feet and stepped over to the small window that overlooked the castle courtyard. Michael wasn't interested in what was below him, he stared straight ahead, across campus, at Ravenclaw tower.

"You all right?"

Michael jumped. Jeff was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him. He wasn't the only one – Dean and Seamus were looking at him curiously. Ron and Harry frowned at each other; only Neville missed this, as he was in the bathroom.

"Yeah," Michael said quietly. "Just…a little overwhelmed. Being in a new school," he added more loudly. "Leaving…leaving the people you care about behind is hard."

"You could take a Portkey back sometime," Neville suggested, emerging from the restroom. "You can go back home. But I think you'll like it here."

Jeff nodded without saying anything, then fell back and rolled over. "Night," he muttered to the room in general. Michael was considering what Neville had said and did not hear Jeff. He smiled at Neville, turned from the window, and returned to his bed. He was asleep within minutes.

The boys woke the next morning and dressed quickly, as they needed to be at breakfast early to get their class schedules. They met Hermione and Sarah at the portrait hole and the six teens navigated their way down to the Great Hall again.

After a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs, the Gryffindors lined up in front of Professor McGonagall to confirm the classes they would be taking. When she gave Michael his list she gave him an appraising look, but no other indication he was anything but a new student. Michael supposed Dumbledore must've told her his real identity. It verified STRIKE's suspicion she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, at least in Michael's mind.

Michael, Jeff, Harry, and Ron stood in a group near the staff table examining the sheet of paper they were all holding a copy of. Ron's face lit up as he looked closely.

"Hey, we've got free periods this year!" he said excitedly. "Time to relax, do whatever we want…."

"I don't know, we'll probably need the time to study" Harry said doubtfully.

Jeff chuckled at that and shook his head, but didn't comment.

"Right, let's see…Defense first with Snape and the Slytherins. Who's he to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Harry said indignantly.

"We'll see I guess," Michael shrugged. "Maybe his experience with the Dark Arts will be helpful? Or he'll just try to teach ineffective spells, the filthy Death Eater," he added after Harry glared at him.

They reached the Defense classroom a few minutes later, where there was already a mixed group of Gryffindors and Slytherins waiting. Mixed as in both were waiting for Snape to let them in, not physically close. Both groups were avoiding each other as if the other had a deadly contagious disease.

Harry and Ron blended into the Gryffindors immediately and Michael and Jeff followed their lead. Michael shifted his weight on each foot as he stood silently. Jeff looked bored next to him, then cast a glance over at the Slytherins. A small smirk began to form on his face and Michael knew what was coming.

"You should introduce yourself," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"It is a bit awkward knowing their parents, but not them," Michael said thoughtfully. "Thoughts?" he asked Ron and Harry. Ron grinned widely and nodded, Harry gave Michael a smaller encouragement under Hermione's glare, but it was enough for him.

"You're really good at this undercover thing, aren't you?" Sarah asked quietly. But she too smiled at Michael.

"I can be undercover as a rule-breaking rebel, can't I?" Michael replied, just as rhetorically. He gave the group a thumbs up, let his arms fall to his sides, and sauntered into the no-man's-land between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He quickly found the blonde head he was looking for and took a step closer.

"Hi," he said pleasantly, plastering on the least authentic smile he could. "I'm Michael Jacobs, me and my friends just transferred here." He extended his right hand. Draco Malfoy stared at it.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked slowly.

"Making friends," Michael replied, his shit-eating grin growing larger. He gestured at Draco with his still extended hand. Slytherins all around had been staring since Michael walked over and though he couldn't see them, he knew the Gryffindors behind him were doing the same.

"I know who you are," Malfoy whispered. Michael wasn't sure he had seen anyone look this angry in a while, especially not during a formal introduction. Michael wondered if his career battling his father and aunt counted as previous introduction or not.

"Well of course you do," Michael said easily. He gestured a third time at Draco. "I just introduced myself." Behind him, he recognized a loud laugh as Sarah's, as well as some other chuckles.

It was this that broke Draco's tolerance; one of his hands slapped away Michael's extended one, the other moved to his pocket. He withdrew his wand and aimed it straight at Michael's face, only to find Michael's close enough to his own he risked damage from it being shoved up his nose as well as from a curse. Michael moved a step closer, so they were almost face to face.

"Well then," he breathed in Draco's ear, quietly enough so that no one else could hear them, "what are you going to do about it? If I am who you think I am, you know I have experience with multiple curses that will turn you _inside out_. So," Michael said, taking a step back, "let's just assume I'm a new student. For both our sakes."

"What is this?"

Draco's expression changed completely. He smirked at Michael – as if he had won – and put his wand away. Michael turned his back to Malfoy and found himself in the rather furious stare of a man he had occasionally seen pictures of. Severus Snape appeared just as pleasant in person as Michael's reports of the enigmatic man had suggested.

Everyone, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, had frozen. Michael sighed; he had allowed the joke to go too far. He slid his wand back into his pocket and locked eyes with Snape. "Just a misunderstanding…I'm sorry sir. I'm excited to see what Hogwarts has to teach about Defense." He pulled on a smile more genuine than the previous, though it only lasted as long as it took for Snape to bare his teeth at him.

"Get in my classroom," Snape seethed. "I don't know where you came from, but at Hogwarts, fools are looked down upon. Keep that in mind." Over Snape's shoulder, the Hogwarts Trio were all giving him looks that plainly told him to drop it.

"Yes sir."

The Gryffindors hurried in, all trying, most failing, to suppress their laughter. While the Slytherins followed, looking annoyed that Snape hadn't done more than reprimand Michael.

The six Gryffindors took the four seats in the back left corner and dropped their books. Many of the students gave Michael looks that clearly meant they were impressed as they passed by. Jeff grinned at everyone and accepted a few incidental high fives, but Michael at least pretended not to notice.

"That was amazing!" Ron whispered to him, after checking to make sure Snape was out of earshot, of course.

"At least I've figured out why you're in Gryffindor" Harry said. "You've certainly got courage, maybe too much…"

"Come on, Harry" Michael said disbelievingly, "tell me with a straight face that wasn't funny. Though…probably not something I should repeat," he added, earning a nod of agreement from Hermione.

"If you would all like to learn anything" Snape snarled from the front of the class, "then I would recommend you pay attention. Failure to do so will result in… consequences." He stared at the six in the back. Michael, not wishing any more trouble, avoided his gaze, but Harry and Jeff stared right back at him.

Snape launched into a long speech on the Dark Arts and it's many forms. Michael actually thought it was rather good, and even Jeff was paying attention. Harry seemed to have a different attitude though, and was glaring at Snape with as much dislike as ever.

"And that" Snape finished, "is why the Dark Arts can never truly be defeated."

Harry opened his mouth to tell Snape he was wrong, but Michael beat him to it. Jeff was watching his friend, though he was no longer smiling.

"Do you really believe that, sir?" Michael asked, obviously fighting to keep his voice level. "That the Dark Arts can't be stopped?"

"I do not allow students to contradict me Jacobs!" he spat. "But yes, it is impossible to truly destroy the darkness."

"Not if you pussy foot around with it," he shot at Snape, ignoring the gasps from the class. "But if you set your mind to it, it's not impossible at all. Difficult yes, impossible no."

Snape looked like he might curse Michael on the spot, but somehow turned his look of rage into a sneer. Sarah whispered an urgent "_Shut up_!" in Michael's ear.

"And how do you 'set your mind to it?'" Snape asked. "Help the needy? Feed the hungry?"

"No. You simply refuse to allow evil to exist. First you take care of your own heart and soul, then you see to those around you."

"I must admit, I am surprised" Snape said, eyebrows raised. "I had you pegged as another idealistic Gryffindor, unable to handle any real business. But then, you have the gall to speak to me of, in your words "stopping the darkness" or in other words, exterminating Dark Wizards."

"Only if no other option is possible. When you can't make them see the light, make them feel the heat."

"So basically, you wish to become an Auror" Snape sneered. "Is that what you're going to do here?"

"_Fuck_." Sarah's whisper was louder this time. She blushed, but Jeff shook his head at her. He seemed as concerned as she was. Hermione looked embarrassed; Ron and Harry stared at Michael.

"No," Michael said. He ground his teeth in between sentences. "No, I don't want to be an Auror. I actually want to help the war against Voldemort."

"Help?" Snape repeated softly, looking slightly interested. He stared into Michael's eyes and Michael felt something move within his consciousness. Memories and thoughts and feelings in no way relevant to a Defense Against the Dark Arts class began to swirl in his head. Michael shook his head a little to each side, then shut his eyes, breaking contact with Snape.

"Hell no," Michael thought angrily. His mind began to wad up every thought and memory that shouldn't be there, throwing them around his head, far too chaotic to make sense of. He opened his eyes again and saw Snape had turned his back to him. Michael gave Harry an irritable look and raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't tell me the suspicious Defense professor is a Legilimens?" Michael said through his teeth, very aware the rest of the class had split their attention between himself and Snape. Harry opened his mouth but Michael stopped him with a jerk of his head. "Its fine. He didn't see much." He turned away from Harry, folded his arms, and felt very proud of his Occlumency skills.

"Where did you come from, Jacobs?" Snape asked, his back still turned. Jeff's hands were restlessly drumming on his legs; he knew as well as Michael this attention was the last thing they needed.

"Salem Memorial," Michael answered him. Snape turned around and finally looked at Michael again. There was no mental exchange this time.

"What kind of spells did they teach you in Salem?" he asked quietly. "Defensive spells?"

Michael was not amused by Snape's attempted intrusion into his thoughts and memories. The politeness in his voice no longer fooled anyone.

"All different kinds" he said. "Mostly hexes and counter-jinxes."

"And what about curses?" Snape whispered. "Is there anyone like Mad Eye Moody over there? Teaching you the Unforgivable Curses?"

"You seem very interested, Professor. Are you perhaps thinking of taking a job at Salem?"

"I am simply curious as to how advanced I can expect you and your…friends to be. I'm willing to speak slowly if it is necessary."

The fact that Michael smiled at this did nothing to melt the freezing atmosphere projected due to the exchange between the two Wizards. "Well, sir" he said with as much innocence as he could muster, "there's an easy way to find out."

A pin drop would have sounded like a gunshot in the silence that followed. Nobody knew what to say, even Jeff, who had known Michael for years, was staring with his mouth slightly opened. No student had ever come close to challenging a teacher before, least of all Severus Snape.

"Are you challenging me to a duel, Mr. Jacobs?" Snape whispered.

"No sir. I'm asking for a demonstration."

Snape stared at him for a long time, but Michael knew he didn't dare attempt Legilmency again. Michael had the impression Snape was trying to decide if he was bluffing or not. Finally, he smiled, showing his yellow teeth. Michael glanced at his friends; despite only knowing him a few days, he could safely say he had never seen Ron look so happy.

"Very well, Mr. Jacobs. You have a chance to make your old teachers proud. Come up to the front of the class, and show me what _you _are capable of."

"Yes, Professor" he said, standing up and shoving his chair aside. His crossed to the front of the class briskly, where Snape was using his wand to move his desk and other things out of the way, to give them an appropriate amount of space.

They stood with their backs up against opposites walls, sizing each other up. Apparently satisfied, Snape negotiated the rules.

"So Mr. Jacobs, what is and isn't allowed in this…demonstration? If you need me to only use my left arm, I'm sure that could be arranged," he sneered.

Michael had drawn his wand and was flexing his arm, not paying Snape any attention. He started twisting his wand in his hand when he looked up.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll be okay. But as for bans… no Unforgivables, obviously…, no major curses period… that's standard practice, isn't it?"

"So be it" said Snape. "Would you prefer to put up dueling protection, or should I?"

Michael's mouth twitched to half a smile. "Demonstration protection," he reminded him. "And I'll do it. _Protego Dularis_!"

He waved his wand, and a translucent cube formed around Michael and Severus. Its borders extended the width of the classroom, to the wall opposite the door, and right up to the first row of desks, all of whom hastily scooted backwards.

Michael had no idea what to expect or what he had gotten himself into. He wasn't particularly worried about being outclassed or losing in an embarrassing way – he had been made a Captain for a reason – but as he looked around he felt guilt. He was basically taking every chance available to make himself conspicuous and combative. The look on Hermione and Sarah's faces told him as much. Harry, however, looked extremely interested. Michael was aware Snape had made Harry's life hell for years, he supposed Harry was hoping to see the professor take a curse to the face for it.

Ron's expression was similar to Harry's: Eager anticipation, with a tiny amount of trepidation. Jeff's face however, plainly told who he believed would win this contest.

"Sarah, don't look like that," Jeff admonished her. "You know this is amazing –"

"And a terrible idea."

"Well, yeah," Jeff agreed. "Of course it's a fucking stupid idea. But it's happening, so enjoy it!"

"He's treated us all like rubbish for years," Ron assured her. Harry nodded agreement. Both boys looked at Hermione, who sagged her head a little, then nodded as well.

"You a betting man Weasley?" Jeff asked. "I've got ten Galleons that say Michael wins in under a minute."

"No thanks" Ron said uncomfortably. "I'll keep my gold in my pocket" Looking slightly disappointed, but not entirely surprised, Jeff turned to Harry.

"How about you Harry? Fancy losing a couple Galleons?"Harry shook his head. "Ah well… let's watch."

"So we bow right?" Michael was saying. Snape nodded and both bent slightly, though both kept their faces upturned to watch the other. "On my count of three then. One, two, THREE!"

Neither spoke a word, but twin jets of red met in the air. Michael and Snape's wand cut complicated motions through the air sending not only different colored streaks of light but also balls, tiny triangles and something like ribbons at each other.

Snape was standing his ground with a fierce look, while Michael kept moving, trying to find a way under Severus' guard. Since neither had called the name of the spell they used, the class was having a hard time keeping up with the action. And as none of the spells had yet hit either  
combatant, he couldn't tell their intent either.

The two seemed evenly matched and for a long while, they bobbed and weaved, blocked and parried. Michael felt a constant sense of control, though, admittedly, there were a few times Michael was certain Snape was about to floor him, only for him to parry the curse at the last second.

Finally, Michael aimed a Stunner at Snape's feet, causing him to stumble as he jumped backwards to avoid the spell. He followed with a Jelly Legs Jinx which took Snape to the ground. As he fell Snape waved his wand wildly. At first Michael thought the spell had not worked, as no wave of light nor any other visible effects issued from his wand.

Then his face, which had just acquired a look of satisfaction, drained of all color. Michael and everyone else in the room looked with horror at the x-shaped cut across his own chest. Snape's face showed shock, fear, and something else unreadable. Then it was wiped completely blank as Michael's last Stunning Spell hit him in between the eyes as Michael fell to his knees, then flat on his face.

The entire class surged forward, crowding either Michael in the case of the Gryffindors or Snape if you were Slytherin. Harry kneeled down next to Michael and he rolled him onto his back. He appeared to be unconscious and was still losing blood rapidly.

"Someone get Madame Pomfrey!" Parvati Patil shrieked.

"I'll go!"

Someone ran out the door, already calling for the Healer. Harry looked around hopelessly at his peers. As sixth years none of them had any idea how to heal wound anywhere near this serious. Harry knew there was only one way Michael would survive the wait for Madame Pomfrey.

He jumped up and shoved several large Slytherins out of the way to stand near Snape, who had just been revived. The seriousness of the situation was evident in that when Harry roughly grabbed him by the neck of his robes and dragged him to his feet, he did nothing to resist or retaliate.

"Fix him!" he snarled. "You did this! If you don't hurry, you'll have killed him too! " He threw Snape, who looked down on Michael. Harry couldn't read his expression.

"My wand!" he said hoarsely. "I need my wand." Pansy Parkinson rushed to him, holding out his wand. He took it with a shaking hand.

"_Resarcio_" he said clearly, tracing the wounds on Michael's torso. The bleeding slowed, but did not stop completely. Looking horrified, Snape repeated the spell. The bleeding finally ceased and Snape sighed. He stood up as Madame Pomfrey hurried inside followed by Dean Thomas.

"Oh my God!" she cried, seeing a student lying on the floor, covered in blood. "What happened?" She rushed over to Michael and checked for a pulse. Finding one, she began to mutter spells over him, causing the freshly healed wounds to fade to slightly white lines on his chest.

Snape stared to explain, but Jeff cut him off. He was looking down at Michael with an expression of the deepest loathing, though Harry knew it was directed at Snape.

"Professor Snape used some kind of curse on Michael" he told her. "It sliced him up pretty bad, will he be okay?"

"I think so" she said. "But he's lost so much blood… I don't think he'll be conscious for some time... Please, if you could help me get him to the hospital wing."

Jeff nodded quickly and drew his wand. He pointed it at Michael and said, "_Locomotor Mortis_!"

Michael hovered a few feet above the ground, stiff as a board. Jeff carefully maneuvered him out of the classroom, past the onlookers, and down the hall after Madame Pomfrey. On the way they passed Albus Dumbledore, who looked as pale as Michael and as furious as Jeff, striding quickly towards the Defense classroom, where Professor Snape remained standing in the same spot, surrounded by his students.


	12. Chapter 12: Smile in Your Sleep

"So you really think Snape meant to use that curse?"

"How could it have been an accident Sarah?"

"You said it happened as he fell! Maybe it was just the wand movement!"

"Yeah, right…"

Michael groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed in what he assumed to be the hospital wing, surrounded by a number of people. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at himself. The sheet was up to his armpits, and pulling it down to his waist, he saw that he wasn't wearing a shirt. There were two faint lines that intersected right above his naval. A soft, fading light was coming in through an open window. It seemed to be evening.

"Ah you are awake, Mr. Jacobs," said Dumbledore, who was standing on his left along with Jeff, Sarah, and Hermione. Harry and Ron were on his other side.

"Michael!" Sarah cried, immediately being shushed by Madame Pomfrey, who had just appeared holding a bottle of red liquid. "Are you okay?" she asked, much more quietly. "What happened?"

"You know what happened," Jeff said fiercely. "Snape tried to kill him!"

"Before we make any judgments, Mr. Allero, I'd like to know what Michael thinks," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Before we do _anything_," Pomfrey said shortly, "you need to take more of this, Mr. Jacobs." She handed him the bottle. "Make sure to drink it all."

"What is it?" Michael asked, uncorking the bottle and sniffing it. "And what do you mean more? How long have I been out?"

"It's a Blood Replenishing Potion, Mr. Jacobs," she said patiently. "And we've had to pour it down your throat for the majority of the day, since you were injured."

Michael threw back his head and chugged the potion. He had been injured many times, but had never been forced to drink a potion like this. It was awful, and he nearly gagged. "I've been unconscious all day?" he choked. "What happened to Snape?"

"Before we get to that," Dumbledore said again, "I would very much like to hear your side of the story, Michael." Pomfrey hurried away as a Seventh Year Ravenclaw stumbled in, having grown an unnaturally large amount of extra noses.

"Well, me and Snape had a bit of an argument and it turned into…" Michael trailed off, trying to remember the word he used.

"A duel?" suggested Dumbledore.

"No, I made sure that was clear. It was more of an… an angry demonstration of magical knowledge."

Dumbledore smiled very slightly. "So what happened in this... demonstration then?"

"Well we were exchanging spells, and I caught him with Jelly Legs. When his legs gave out and he fell, he kind of flailed around. I guess whatever he did with his arm was the movement for the curse I got hit with."

Dumbledore studied Michael for a moment.

"I have one more question for you Michael. This is a very serious matter, and before I ask, I think it is important you know what has happened." He sighed deeply, looking ancient.

"Everyone present knows that Professor Snape was once a Death Eater in the employ of Lord Voldemort. Because of this, and of the dark nature of the spell used, he has been taken into custody. He is currently incarcerated in a cell in Azkaban. Michael I must ask you, do you believe Professor Snape intended to use this particular spell on you?"

Michael said nothing, thinking hard. Everyone was staring at him with looks of apprehension and anticipation. He raised himself into a sitting position, causing the scars to whiten.

"No, I don't think he meant to use that spell," he said finally. "How exactly it happened I don't know, but somehow I have a feeling that it was an accident."

"But how can you be sure?" Jeff asked incredulously. "You can't read his mind, can you?"

Michael stared at him for a long moment, and Michael debated the validity of that statement. "No, you're right Jeff. I can't read his mind. But even if he had meant to kill or maim me with that curse, why didn't he finish me? Why would he try it surrounded by witnesses? No, too many things point to this being an accident."

Dumbledore smiled. "I quite agree with you Michael. While your injuries are most unfortunate, I do not believe they were intentional. If you could just sign a statement confirming this, I could have Severus released and back at Hogwarts within the day."

Dumbledore handed him an official looking sheet of paper and a quill dipped in Endless Ink. Michael took it with a glance at Harry. Both he and Ron were frantically shaking their heads no.

"Out of curiosity, if Snape didn't come back, who would be his replacement?" he asked, appearing to study the statement closely.

"Most likely the Ministry would send a replacement," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Perhaps a disciple of Dolores Umbridge."

All through last year, STRIKE had been treated to stories of Dolores Umbridge's tyranny at Hogwarts. Michael would not allow anything similar to happen again, least of all while he was a student at the school.

"If you at all doubt Severus' innocence, I urge you not to sign the paper," Dumbledore told him. "Of course, without a statement from you an investigation could take weeks. But I'm sure that Rufus would be only too happy to supply us with a replacement."

"No doubt about that at least," Michael muttered, signing his slightly sloppy name on the dotted line at the bottom of the paper.

"Thank you very much," Dumbledore said, taking the paper back from him and vanishing it. "I don't know how you're feeling but…"

"I feel fine," Michael said immediately.

Sarah sighed. "You always feel fine. And there's no point acting tough either, is there?" she asked Dumbledore.

"No I'm afraid not. Madame Pomfrey has dictated that you will remain here overnight at the very least. If at that point you feel up to going to class, or have other urgent business to attend to you may leave."

Normally Michael would have argued with the old man on this, but he felt that after basically picking a fight with his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he should just sit back and try to enjoy the rest.

"Fine, I'll stay," Michael said resentfully. "But I want credit for all the classes I missed today."

Dumbledore chuckled. "If you wish. But surely you've realized… I really don't care what kind of grades you make in your subjects. I would prefer if you would refrain from becoming locked in single combat with any of my other teachers, but as far as classes go…its wholly irrelevant to your job. Which, I must say, you could do better at if you didn't make a point to fight every person in Slytherin house."

His tone was light, but his gaze felt incredibly heavy on Michael.

"It won't happen again," Michael promised. "I'm sorry I betrayed your trust."

"Severus Snape has made a habit of finding out precisely what angers a person most, then acting on that discovery," Dumbledore said. He adjusted his spectacles. "Obviously, it did not mix well with what I gather to be the rather short temper you possess. I trust you have gotten this out of your system and you will continue to aid in the school's protection in a more discreet way."

"Yes sir," Michael said, feely highly embarrassed now. It had been a full year since he had been in a school. Being reprimanded by a teacher was somehow worse than being written up by the Head Auror or having General Staffon threaten to demote him.

"I do have to get going," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly at Michael. Michael found it made him feel better than it should. "I'll take these papers straight to the Ministry, to Scrimgeour himself if I have to. Good day to you all." He waved goodbye and swept out the door.

Sarah watched Dumbledore leave, then swirled around and glared down at Michael. "You _fucking _idiot," she seethed. "Why in God's name did you think that was a good idea?"

"I knew it wasn't," Michael said weakly. Sarah buried her face in her hands and turned away in fury. Now Hermione took her turn.

"You are the worst spy I have ever seen," she whispered at him.

"I'm not a spy," Michael countered defensively. He didn't like the sound of that word.

"Well then what are you?" Hermione demanded.

"The Captain of STRIKE's special forces," Michael replied defiantly.

"The Captain who gets peer pressured into fighting a teacher while undercover?"

"I…wasn't exactly promoted to Captain for my subtly," Michael admitted, as everyone else tried not to laugh at Hermione's remark. He rubbed the back of his neck. "It was more about my dueling skills – _which you can't deny now _– and the fact that our last Captain and his second and third in command were all wiped out by Voldemort."

"That's not all you were promoted for," Jeff said seriously. He was looking hard at Michael. "Your tactics – if not subtle – are effective. I know what you were doing," he finished shortly.

Michael frowned at his best friend. "What was I doing?"

"You want to get noticed," Jeff sighed. The other four were watching him, trying to figure him out. Michael's face burned.

"I'm not _trying _to blow our cover," Michael snapped.

"I know," Jeff said. "But you still wanted to be noticed. Michael…is this really that hard on you?"

Sarah's face lit up with understanding, though the Trio remained in the dark. Michael, meanwhile, was feeling a stronger and stronger urge to punch Jeff. But in balance with this desire was a need to speak; Jeff seemed to understand.

"I…I don't want to be the one to make the choice for her," he said slowly, to his own hands. "I don't want to go looking…If she comes to me…its different."

"No," Hermione said sadly. "It's not." She paused and looked at Ron and Harry. She opened her mouth but Michael, knowing exactly what she was about to say, preempted her.

"I'll handle it," he said repressively. He gave Jeff a look that was near begging. Thankfully, his friend picked up on the hint.

"Listen, we gotta go," Jeff told him. "It's time for dinner, and thanks to you, if anyone tries to kill somebody, I'll have to deal with it alone."

"Ahem," Sarah coughed indignantly, "I'm here too you know!"

"Yeah, but I have to handle it to impress you," he shot back. "Now if it turns out another teacher is a bloodthirsty murderer, it's my problem!"

"I thought we agreed he wasn't trying to kill me," Michael said crossly. Sarah had returned her face to her hands. "And where's my wand?"

"Right here" Harry said, handing it to him. "I picked it up after you got hurt. I've never seen one like this, what is it?"

"That's not very surprising," Michael said proudly, "The core's Werewolf hair, and the wand itself is from a California Redwood. Really durable, pretty rare too."

"Did you say the core is Werewolf hair?" Hermione asked, shocked. "But doesn't that make for really unstable wands?"

"Only in the wrong hands" Michael assured her. "As long as the wand respects you, you'll be fine."

"Respects you?" Ron repeated.

"Or something like that," Michael shrugged. "I don't really get all that wandlore stuff, but from what I understand, since the wand chose me, it'll work better for me than anyone else."

"We'll come by later," Harry told him. Michael nodded gratefully.

They all left to eat and Michael laid back against the bed. He was bored within seconds – what was he supposed to do for an entire day?

Remembering that his mission at Hogwarts did not exempt him from his duty as a STRIKE Captain, he groaned and waved his wand. A stack of papers appeared and fell onto his chest. Marveling at the fact that he didn't have an assistant or secretary to do this, he took the topmost paper and began reading the most recent STRIKE report, this one detailing Voldemort's presence abroad. Considering he wasn't actively participating in his leadership role at the moment, Michael felt little guilt about scanning the papers half-heartedly. It was accepted he wouldn't be able to manage the day-to-day operations of his division from Hogwarts and one the older, more experienced special forces members had volunteered to take over for him. The reports were mostly standard fare anyway, apart from one suggesting Voldemort had Death Eaters operating in the Caribbean. That struck Michael as very odd; Voldemort had by and large stayed in his own hemisphere. What would he want in the middle of the ocean?

Harry, Jeff, and Ron came to visit him a few hours later. Sarah and Hermione came an hour after the boys. Gender compatibility had already set it, it seemed. Michael soon learned that there was a rumor around school that Michael and Snape were working for opposite sides of secret agencies, and that they had been contracted to kill each other. This made Michael laugh, but Sarah found no humor in it.

"But we _are_ with a secret agency," she said in a low voice, sounding worried. "What if someone knows? What if they know why we're here?"

"Okay fine, we are with STRIKE, but that's the only anything close to true. We weren't hired to kill him, and I don't think he wants to kill me either. It was probably just some Slytherin trying to be funny."

"But still…"

She and Hermione left and went to work on Charms homework with the boys, and Michael reluctantly returned to his paperwork. He had hoped his friends would visit again, but when they did not, he was forced to accept that it was late and they had likely gone to bed for the night.

He was the only one occupying a bed in the hospital wing, so that he didn't even have strangers to talk to. It was around ten and he had just dimmed his wand and vanished the last report. He rolled over on his side, facing Pomfrey's office, opposite the door. He yawned widely and closed his eyes, when the door creaked open, spilling weak light into the infirmary.

Wondering how someone had gotten hurt at this time of night, he rolled onto his other side to get a look at the person who entered. The door shut carefully and the room was returned to darkness, and all he could see was a female form stepping inside.

Whatever the girl's problem was, Michael decided it was none of his business and turned over to go to sleep. He expected to hear a knock on the door of the matron's office and an explanation as to why she needed help. However, there was no knock. In fact the girl seemed to be going to great lengths not to be heard.

In fact, even when Michael listened hard, he couldn't hear footsteps. This struck him as odd: He was a highly trained STRIKE agent, one of the best, and he couldn't detect some student? Was it possible Sarah had been right, did someone know their secret? Was this an enemy?

Trying to move as little as possible, Michael extracted his wand, keeping his back turned to where he assumed the girl was. He expected he was just being paranoid, why would a girl be sneaking into his room at night? To kill him? That wasn't usually what they wanted…

What he didn't expect was to feel a soft hand on his shoulder and hear a voice whisper almost in his ear.

"Hello?"

He turned his gasp into a sharp intake of breath. He knew that voice. How couldn't he? Michael's wasn't sure what the qualifying line was for a dangerous heartbeat, but he guessed that his chest feeling like someone turned an oscillating fan on inside it was somewhat telltale. Michael took several deep breaths, his eyes tightly shut. His head filled with thoughts just as it had when he had blocked Snape from reading his mind, only this time there was no control possible.

"Are you all right?"

Michael's eyes opened. He discreetly put down his wand and pushed himself into a sitting position. Even in the dark, her huge blue eyes seemed to shine as she looked down at him, obviously concerned. "Do you feel okay?" she repeated, looking him up and down. Michael didn't know what to say – he didn't know if he could say anything. "You're very sweaty," she observed. "You look very distressed, should I get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No," Michael said quickly, his voice at last back under his control. "I…you just startled me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to do that at. Do I look all right?" she added, tilting her head a little to the side.

"What?" Michael said sharply, blinking repeatedly.

"You're looking at me just like I was at you, and I thought you might be having a heart attack," she replied. She looked herself up and down. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Oh, no, you…you don't," Michael said quickly. He would've blushed, but all the blood in his body had gone to his brain. It was pounding against his skull. He had been staring. There was a pause where neither person said a thing.

"My name's Luna Lovegood," she said after what appeared to be a totally non-awkward moment for her, politely holding out a hand. Without a thought, he reached out and took it, giving it a light shake. She dropped his hand and smiled at him. "You're the one who fought with Professor Snape, right?"

"Yeah, that was me," Michael said. Michael glanced over at the matron's office; the light was off and the door remained firmly shut. "I'm Michael," he told her.

Luna's eyebrows narrowed slightly, she looked deep in thought. "Hmmm."

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a last name?" she asked. "I know some famous singers don't have a last name, but you don't look like a famous singer."

Michael laughed out loud at that. He immediately looked towards the office again. He had not been too loud, no one came out. Forgetting himself, Michael smiled back at her. "It's Jacobs. Michael Jacobs." In the silence following, while Luna's brow furrowed more deeply, Michael discovered his heart rate had slowed back to somewhat normal patterns.

"So," Michael said after a moment, "what are you doing here? Are you hurt?"

"No," Luna answered, shaking her head, "I wanted to ask you something."

Michael couldn't immediately figure that one out. "So…why here, and now? Its way after curfew, right?"

"You seem like someone who likes privacy," Luna said simply. "I thought you might not want to talk to me if there were other people around."

"I'd still talk to you," Michael said in a rush. This time, he did have the necessarily fluids to turn his face red. Putting aside that comment, Michael turned to the crux of the matter. He had no idea what she was about to ask, but he had a feeling he already knew where they would end up regardless. "What did you want to ask me, Luna?"

It felt good to say her name again.

"Have we met?"

If Michael had feared his heart overdoing itself earlier, its new condition was precisely the opposite – his heart nearly stopped. Well, it was a yes or no question. One answer forced him to lie, the other would bring out the truth. Michael still wasn't sure which was worse. He compromised.

"Why do you ask?"

I just have a feeling, do you know what I mean? Like somehow I know you… or I did? You're from America right?" He nodded, stunned by what he was hearing. "I grew up in America, but both my parents were British. Maybe we went to school together before Hogwarts?" she suggested.

"I have a common face," Michael said before he could stop himself. It was a stupid thing to say in any situation, but he needed to stall. Just a little longer to make a decision….

"No," she said thoughtfully, "that's not it. And I don't think it's very common to have a scar like that..." She ran a pale finger down line near his left eye. He closed his eyes as her skin touched his. Maybe she was meant to know…

Maybe that was why he was really here…

"So, uh, when did you move here?" Michael asked. He would see where this went.

"We moved when I was ten, right before I would be Hogwarts age."

He knew what was coming, but should she? He decided to continue. "Is that why you moved? To go to Hogwarts?"

"No, that wasn't it," she said sadly. Michael felt terrible to ask a question he already knew the answer to, but he needed more information. "I was supposed to go to Salem University, but that was before the accident."

So that's what they told her. An accident. No, he decided suddenly, no. She deserved to know.

"An accident?" he repeated. "What happened?"

"Well my mother was a very talented Witch. But she liked to invent and try new things, like new spells. One day when I was ten she used a spell she had invented… It backfired, and she died," she finished simply. Luna didn't look particularly upset, less so than Michael did in fact.

Elysina Lovegood, dead by her own spell? It was the final straw for the STRIKE Captain.

"Luna," Michael said slowly, looking her in the face, "there's something I need to tell you. But if I do, you need to understand it will change your view about many things, and could put you in danger."

"Go ahead, tell me," she said, regaining her brightness.

"Luna, you need to understand how serious this is –"

"I will once you tell me," she said mildly. "Until then I really can't, can I?"

"If you are one hundred percent sure you want me to tell you –"

"Yes please ," Luna persisted.

" – then come with me. We'll talk somewhere else, more private."

He pulled the sheets off himself and climbed out of bed. He noticed Luna smiling slightly at him as he replaced his wand in his pajama pants pocket.

"Something wrong?" he asked, wondering what she was smiling about.

"Well, it's just that we aren't really supposed to be out this late. And if Mr. Filch catches us, it might be a bit of a problem…"

"Well I'll just explain to Dumbledore this was important," he said, failing to see the problem.

"Except that you're not wearing a shirt," she pointed out.

"Oh." Feeling stupid, he grabbed the t-shirt that lay folded on bed stand next to his mattress.

"Professor Snape really hurt you," she observed as he pulled it on over his head. "I wonder where he learned a spell like that?"

"I've seen Death Eaters use it before," he told her as they tiptoed towards the door, "maybe Voldemort invented it." He made sure to check her reaction and was pleased to see she did not flinch at the name.

They pushed the door open as quietly as possible and set off down the hallway. Michael constantly looked around, on alert for both teachers and places where they could have a conversation.

"I have no idea where we're going," he finally admitted. "Where can we go that we won't be disturbed?"

She turned her huge eyes on him, looking vaguely surprised. "Why?" When he didn't answer she said, "Here, there's a concealed passage behind this tapestry here, Harry showed me last year."

Michael drew the tapestry aside and held it for Luna, motioning for her to go inside. She did so and he followed her inside, glancing down the hall on last time to make sure they weren't followed.

He turned around and found his face inches from hers. It had been so long... "So what exactly are you going to tell me?" she asked, staring into his eyes. He was glad she, at least, wasn't a secret Legilimens.

He hesitated, very unsure how to say what he must. "First you need to know who I am. My friends Jeff and Sarah and myself all work for a secret organization called STRIKE."

She looked startled and took a step back. "The rumors are true then? You really are out to kill Professor Snape?"

"What? No! That's not what I said. We're here because Dumbledore asked us to come, to help keep the school safe. We're posing as students. We're not assassins, we're an organization formed to fight Voldemort and other Dark Wizards without interference from the Ministry…But right now isn't important, what's important is what already happened. I only found out about all this since I became a Captain in STRIKE There are only five Captains in our organization, it's the highest rank you can become, apart from our leader. Captains are given access to every bit of information STRIKE has, including all its old reports."

He closed his eyes. "You were right when you said we'd met before. In fact, we were best friends until we were ten." He wondered if she would think him mad or a liar. He opened his eyes to look at her; she looked more curious than frightened or incredulous.

"But why don't I remember you?" she asked. "As more than a suspicion I mean?"

"Because when you were ten, you were caught in the blast range of an extremely dangerous curse. The same curse that killed your mother."

"What are you saying?" she asked slowly, showing fear for the first time. "That my mother took my memories?"

"No Luna," he said sadly, opening his eyes and looking into hers. "That curse was used by the assassin who murdered your mother. Your mom protected you with a Shield Charm…but it wasn't enough to save herself. That curse took not only your mother's life – as well as the bastard who cast it – but your memories."

"Why would someone want to kill my mum?" Luna asked, looking shocked. "She worked for the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Games!" Her mouth stayed open as she finished speaking, then moved without noise for a moment. "She didn't, did she?"

"That was what she told everyone, apart from your father. Your mom was a member of STRIKE, Luna. She was one of five Captains, like I am. I…I knew her really well when we were kids," Michael said, feeling emotion he knew should be reserved for Luna. "Obviously I didn't know she was in STRIKE but…she was so _nice_ to me."

"You make a lot of enemies being in STRIKE, especially if you're active in the field. Your mom was both, and a lot of those enemies are powerful Dark Wizards…it was four against one and from what I read, she almost fought them all off."

"What happened after?" Luna asked, still not showing nearly as much shock as Michael had expected. It seemed as though she was still mostly curious about the whole matter.

"A STRIKE group arrived at your house, your dad was holding you, and you weren't moving or conscious. They took you to General Staffon, the leader of STRIKE, to try and save your life.

"He was able to heal your physical injuries, but your dad asked him not to restore all your memories. He wanted to move away, with your mom gone. He asked Staffon to alter the memories of everyone you knew outside your family, to stop you from every looking back. Your dad didn't want anything more to do with STRIKE, and forbade them to ever reveal the truth to you. Out of respect for your mother, they agreed." Michael gave her a moment to let it all sink in, during which Luna stared at her feet, eyes wide, then said,

"I never got to say goodbye to you, Luna." She looked back up at him. "You were my best friend. You don't see a lot of boys and girls becoming best friends at that kind of age, right? But we were. We did everything together. And then one day, you were gone." His voice had started dull and deadpan, but was rising as he spoke. "One day, you were just gone. Your dad told my parents your mother had died, and then you left. I never saw you."

"You're angry with Dad?" Luna asked.

"No," Michael said quickly. "No, I don't blame him. He wanted to protect you…maybe I'm wrong. I'm going against what he wanted. But I thought you deserved to know, Luna. And…I wanted you to know…STRIKE couldn't tell you. So I did."

"But you're going against your whole group!" she said, sounding very concerned for him. "Won't you get in trouble?"

Michael shrugged. "Probably. It's…its high treason, actually."

"Will they come after you?"

"When they find out, they will," Michael replied. "They will find out Luna…it's our job. They don't know we were friends as children, they don't have reason to suspect I know anything or would act on it right now, though."

"What about the other two people with you?" Luna inquired. "They work for your group too, don't they?"

"Jeff and Sarah already know what happened," Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. "They've been my friends a long time, they're the only people I trusted to tell. They're my friends before they're STRIKE's agents. They're on our side. I can't speak for the rest of STRIKE."

"Will they try to hurt you?"

Michael paused, considering what she asked and what he knew of STRIKE. "Maybe. But you deserve to know… I did do the right thing in telling you, right?" he added, looking desperate.

"Yes, of course" she said quickly. "But if you think I should know, why didn't you find me? Tell me earlier?"

"I've only known three months," Michael told her. "I wasn't a Captain until a little while ago…but really Luna, I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing. What are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are you planning to do with this information? Keep it a secret between us? Tell Harry and the others? Or something else?"

Luna smiled at him. "I'm going to help you fight, of course," she said serenely. "I know you don't want your group to know I'm with you, but I can still help."

Michael nodded. "We used to be best friends, remember? Wait, stupid question… But I knew that's what you'd say. When I heard you were at the Ministry, I seriously considered coming for you and telling you everything.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd want to join the fight. Part of me wants you to stay as far away from me and all the danger that come with that as you can. But another part keeps telling me, especially after the Ministry, that you're in danger anyway, and it would be best for you to be trained to face it."

"And you want us to be friends again, don't you?" she supplied easily.

Michael felt so strongly about this he had to stop once again for phrasing – Luna didn't remember what they had been, he didn't want to come across desperate or creepy –

"I do too," Luna assured him, somehow knowing his thoughts. "You seem nice. I'd like to see what made us such good friends once." Michael grinned at the blonde girl. "But if we're going to be friends again, will you teach me to fight?"

"You want me to teach you?" he repeated.

"Have you ever heard of Dumbledore's Army?"

"I read something about that in the paper last year…it was mostly propaganda and lies, like most of the _Prophet _I'm sure, but I think I got the general idea: A bunch of Wizards who wanted to seriously defend themselves against the darkness, regardless of pointless government bureaucracy. Really, it reminded me a lot of STRIKE."

"Harry was our leader and teacher, and he's a year younger than me," she told him happily. "So that means you could teach me!"

Michael felt happier and happier. He had dreaded this moment since he found out he would be coming to Hogwarts, but now he couldn't believe it had ever given him so much as a headache. He was happier than he had been in a long time. "I'll do it; I'll teach you almost everything I know. But on one condition."

"What?" she asked curiously, taking a step closer to him. She clasped her hands together in front of her and swayed on her feet.

"You can't do anything to let STRIKE know who you are or what you're doing. You _can't _ become embroidered in the STRIKE lifestyle. Your mom handled it really well, but I don't want you to deal with that right now. STRIKE aren't bad people, but you don't want to be with them right now."

"And I don't want you to get in trouble," Luna said dreamily. Michael rubbed the back of his neck; he hadn't even thought of that.

"I just don't want you in any danger," Michael said. "I'm seventeen and I've nearly been killed more times than most people Dumbledore's age. I don't want that to happen to you."

Luna seemed to accept that this and nodded. "Okay, I won't put myself in any unnecessary danger. When can we start?" she asked eagerly.

"That depends. Are you going to tell the others?"

"Yes, I think I will," she said after a bit of consideration.

"That's good," he said nodding. "Because Jeff, Sarah, and I all need to stay in form for everything that's going on now, and we've got something special planned for Harry and his friends… Actually, you too if you want to," he added as an afterthought.

"Something special? Like what kind of special?"

"Make the Death Eaters piss their pants special. Problem is, where can we train seven people?"

"Oh that's easy," said Luna dreamily, "There's a room on the seventh floor that will be perfect. It's where we practiced in the DA last year."

"Sound good," Michael said. He suddenly found it very hard to stand. He leaned up against the wall. A combination of his wounds, the incredibly difficult decision, and sheer tiredness had left him with little energy. "But let's talk about it tomorrow. I'm actually pretty tired, and I've got some healing to do…."

"All right," she agreed. "Can I see you tomorrow? I'd really like to talk more to you."

"Of course," Michael said happily, wondering how his greatest wish had come together so easily. "I... I really missed you Luna, you were a good friend."

"Maybe I'll get to be a friend again," Luna said hopefully. "When is your free period?"

"Anytime I want," he said smoothly. "What about you?"

"Fourth and seventh," she replied.

"Right, well I have no idea where your common room is, so I'll wait for you outside the Gryffindor's during fourth."

"I'll be there," she airily. "And Michael… Thank you." She smiled happily and he smiled back, slightly awkwardly. "Shall we go then?" she asked. He agreed and they departed the concealed hallway. They set off back to the hospital wing together.

"So, uh, what exactly were you and Harry doing in here anyway?" Michael asked as they walked.

"Oh, I found him in here yelling at Cho Chang last year. They didn't have a very nice time together."

"No?"

"No," she mused. "They were actually one of the worst couples I've ever seen. Harry will be much happier with Ginny, once he figures out he should be with Ginny, of course. She looked at him sideways. "Why, what did you think we were doing in there? Having sex?"

"What?" Michael said, startled and amused at the same time, "No… well maybe"

"Well that wasn't it," she said dreamily, "because only wants to have sex with Ginny."

"Oh, good to know," he said, thrilled to be part of her guiltless honesty again. "Who _do_ you have sex with then?"

"That's not a very polite thing to ask a girl," Luna pointed out vaguely.

Michael grinned. "Come on, Luna. Don't you remember me at all?"

Luna smiled placidly, "No one actually… I suppose you haven't heard yet, but people think I'm a bit strange, a lot of people call me 'Loony Lovegood, actually.'"

"_What_?" Michael said angrily, turning to face her. "Who?"

"Well, most people, really," Luna said unconcernedly. "Except Harry and Ginny and the others. They're very nice."

"There's something your mom used to say," Michael said quietly. "She used to tell you 'change the world, don't let the world change you.'"

"I remember that," Luna said thoughtfully. "I wonder if what I remember about mum is true? Apart from her job, but I didn't know that to begin with."

"I don't know why your dad would want your memories of her altered," Michael told her comfortingly. "She was wonderful to you, and everyone. Especially me," he added with a smirk. "She made me lunch as much as my own parents."

"Can you help me with that?" Luna asked cautiously. It wasn't the response Michael had expected, at least not at that moment. "If my memories can be changed, they can be changed back, can't they?"

"I... maybe," Michael said uncertainly. "I'm not real knowledgeable about mental magic like that, apart from some Legilmency skills, but I do want to help you Luna. I'll do what I can to help you get your real memories back, if that's what you want."

"I'd love that," Luna said quietly. "I really would..." She stiffled a yawn behind her hand as they turned a corner.

"I can find my way back," Michael told her, "if you're tired, just go back to bed."

"No," she said serenely, "I haven't seen you in seven years. I'll stay with you."

"Thanks."

He paused when they reached the door. "Seriously, I've really missed you," he told her, not looking directly at her face.

"It's strange," she said, looking completely at ease, "But I feel like that too. Even though tonight is my first real memory of you, I feel like I really missed you."

Michael shifted his feet a little. "Luna –"

"Yes?"

"Nothing...never mind."

"If you say so," she said, looking at him curiously.

"Well, 'night Luna"

"Good night," she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug, "and thank you again." She released him before he even thought to put his arms around her.

He watched her turn and head down the passage, almost… skipping. Same old Luna. Smiling to himself, he opened the door quietly and slipped back into his bed. He pulled his shirt off and replaced it on the bedstand along with his wand.

He felt wonderful, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off him. He had no problem sleeping comfortably that night. He woke the next day, and was not surprised to find that he was still wearing the same smile.

- See more at: . ?sid=889&chapter=12#sthash.


	13. Chapter 13: The Wolf Pack

Overwhelmed with his newfound contentment, Michael jumped out of bed and stretched, basking in the light pouring in through the window. Madame Pomfrey came striding out of her office towards him as he pulled on his shirt.

"Ah, good to see you up, Mr. Jacobs," she said warmly. "I trust you're feeling better?"

"Much better," Michael said politely. "I wasn't really worried though, I knew you would be able to sort it all out"

She smiled motherly, "It's just before breakfast" she told him. "If you hurry, you'll have time to make it up to your dormitory and change into your robes. Then you can join your friends at breakfast."

"Thank you, I'll do that," Michael said, turning to leave.

"Oh, one last thing," she called as he was almost at the door. "I almost forgot, Professor Dumbledore said he needed to speak with you as soon as possible. The password is Lemon Drop."

Michael frowned. Maybe Dumbledore had decided he was angry with him for the Snape incident after all. "I'll go see him after breakfast then," he said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mr. Jacobs."

Michael left, walking briskly back towards the common room, smiling to himself. In a shock of horror, he wondered if Dumbledore had seen him and Luna sneaking around and assumed they were up to something. Then he remembered with a laugh that it didn't matter. In all honesty, Dumbledore had no power over him… He had admitted that himself.

He passed a few stragglers on their way to eat as he ascended the many staircases, but found the Gryffindor common room deserted. The sixth year dormitory was empty as well, and changed into his Hogwarts robes in silence. As he left, he noticed his school schedule lying on his bed.

So first he would have breakfast with Harry and the others, then straight to Dumbledore's office… That meant skipping Potions… Then Defense, that would be interesting… and after that Charms, then his heart jumped, remembering he had planned to meet Luna during fourth.

He found his friends sitting together, talking casually. He slid onto the bench beside Jeff, across from the Trio. They all greeted him happily and he pulled some hash browns towards himself.

"Listen," he told them after a few large bites, "I've got something cool to show you after class today. You three know about the Room of Requirement right?" he asked the Trio.

"Yeah, we used it all last year" Harry said, surprised. "But how do you…?"

"I'll explain later," he cut through. "Just be there after your last class. Can you show Jeff and Sarah where it is?"

"I will," Hermione said. She looked determined about something. Michael raised his eyebrows at her, asking her to continue. She continued to look nervous, but after a buildup of resolve asked in a rush, "Does this have anything to do with Luna?"

"Yes, it does actually" Michael said easily, and Jeff and Sarah nodded understanding. "I've got to go, I'll see you in second."

"Wait" Harry said disbelievingly, "Are you skipping Potions today?"

"Yeah I am" he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "And fourth too, so don't get into too much trouble, as I won't be around to save your asses for a while"

"What exactly are you doing, Michael?" Sarah asked suspiciously as he threw his napkin down and made to leave.

"Room of Requirement, after class!" he called back.

He struggled to find the Headmaster's office, but prevailed after ten minutes of wandering stupidly around the castle. He looked curiously at the two gargoyles, who were not moving or doing anything to acknowledge his presence.

" Uh, what was it? Oh yeah…Lemon Drop" he said to them. Nothing happened. Scowling at them, he repeated, more loudly and forcefully, "Lemon Drop!"

"We heard you the first time, kid," one of them said to him.

"There's really no need to yell," the other snickered.

"Can I just go up to see Professor Dumbledore?" Michael asked irritably.

"Fine," one said, and they both sprang apart to permit him entry. "But it would be nice if a student actually talked to us, you know!" they yelled as he quickly climbed the spiral staircase. He knocked on the door, and Dumbledore called him to enter, sounding tired and troubled.

He was sitting behind his desk, resting his chin on his clasped hands, eyes closed. He didn't look up or open his eyes as Michael stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" he asked, trying to figure out what had happened. Albus did not reply, he merely motioned for Michael to take the seat before his desk. He did so, looking curiously around the office as he did, observing a number of curious instruments he had no idea as to the function of.

"Michael," he said wearily, "you've had some dealings with Rufus Scrimgeour before, have you not?"

Michael clenched his fists involuntarily. "Yes sir, I have," he said through gritted teeth.

"You do not like the man, I hear." Dumbledore said. What was this about?

"Not particularly," he growled. "What about you, do you approve of him?"

He sighed sadly and opened his eyes. "I had tried to, at least until last night, when he refused to release Severus Snape."

"He did _what_?" Michael shouted, sitting up straight. "But I signed that paper! I said it was an accident!" As strong as his feelings of happiness had been because Luna last night, the anger that was boiling in his belly towards the Minister wiped them totally from his mind.

"I know, and I believe he does too" Dumbledore said, uncharacteristically angry. "But he maintains that there is insufficient evidence to release Severus, and so he remains in Azkaban."

"What's he playing at, insufficient evidence? You have a signed statement from the victim, advocating his innocence!"

"Not anymore," Dumbledore said gravely. "The Minister tore up the statement the moment he read the name at the bottom. He refuses to accept any sort of testimony from you."

"So this is some kind of personal vendetta against me?" Michael said loudly. "We'll see about this…." He stood up and actually drew his wand, which emitted small amounts of green sparks.

"No," Dumbledore said firmly, "You cannot hope to walk out of the Ministry a free man if you challenge the Minister now. You are needed here, as well as on the hunt for the Slytherin Seven. We have already lost Severus, we cannot lose you as well."

"I'm not just going to let him rot in prison because Rufus Scrimgeour and I are this close" he held two fingers a centimeter apart, "from dueling in the middle of the Ministry!"

"No Michael," Dumbledore corrected him quietly, "It is because of me, and I suppose Lord Voldemort as well, that Professor Snape is in such trouble. The two people that Scrimgeour hates most in the world are quite possibly Tom Riddle and myself. As Severus has had connections to both of us, Rufus is incredibly suspicious of him."

"So what do we do?" Michael asked, grudgingly sitting back down. "What's the plan?"

Dumbledore hesitated slightly as he said, "I am going to ask you to do something I know you will dislike having to do. I'm asking you to do nothing."

"Are you crazy?" Michael asked in astonishment, "You know what I am, and what I can do! I can help!"

"Consider for a moment, your relationship with the Minister. I'm sure you can see why you would complicate matters," Dumbledore urged him. Michael greatly resented the old man's common sense.

"My presence would do more harm than good…" he muttered furiously, "I understand, and I'll leave this to you. But who will be the Defense teacher?"

"Until Severus is released, I will fill the position myself," he said, tapping his fingers on his desk. "I have no chance of finding another teacher on such short notice, and I will not allow a second Dolores Umbridge to wreak havoc upon my school."

"So I'll stay out of this, and continue with my current assignment then," Michael acknowledged, standing again. "But if it comes to it, I will be paying Scrimgeour a visit, and rest assured you will hear about if I do."

"Before you go," Dumbledore said, sounding at once more like a teacher, and less like an exhausted general "There is one more thing, Mr. Jacobs."

Michael stopped, recognizing the use of his last name. Teachers always did that when he were in trouble. Did the omnipresent Dumbledore spy on his students nighttime prowling?

"Yes, sir?" he asked respectfully. Sir always helped.

"I hear from Mr. Filch that you and Miss Luna Lovegood where wandering the hallways of Hogwarts in the late hours of the night yesterday," Dumbledore said, not accusingly, more questioningly. He was not jumping to conclusions, he gave him the chance to explain.

Michael turned and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. He had to tell Dumbledore what they had been doing, but was resolute in that he would not betray Luna's secret.

"Luna and I had something very important to talk about," he said eventually. "I can't tell what we talked about, because it is extremely personal. But I can tell you nothing happened. We weren't…you know." He felt very uncomfortable discussing sexuality both concerning Luna and in the presence of Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore watched him closely for a moment, then smiled. "I believe you, Michael. And I applaud your loyalty to your friend. I see it was no accident you were placed into Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Professor." He made to leave again, but then one more question swam into his head. "Wait, if the caretaker thought we were up to something, why didn't he try to stop us?"

Dumbledore's smile grew the tiniest amount . "Because he is, in his own words 'Scared shitless of you.'"

"He is? Why?"

"Because whatever happened at the end of your… demonstration with Professor Snape, it is quite clear to everyone in the school who was the true victor."

"So everyone's afraid of me?" Michael asked angrily.

"No Michael, they respect you. It pains me to say so, but Mr. Filch is far more cowardly than most of my students… By and large, at least in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, you are regarded as something of a hero."

Michael couldn't stop himself from smiling. He didn't get a whole lot of recognition in his line of work as the head of the clandestine operations of a secret organization – for whatever reason – and even this small compliment made him feel good.

In an eventful Defense class they began working on the Locomortis charm, which helpfully caused inanimate objects to become mobile, and to protect the user. Most people had trouble with the spell, but Hermione and Sarah picked it up quickly, and Michael did as well, towards the end of class.

In Charms, Professor Flitwick had decided that given recent events, namely the near death of a student, they should learn how to properly heal at least moderate wounds and injuries. Once again, Hermione had the gist of the spell and Michael, Jeff, and Sarah were far more advanced than the rest of the class. Though with a little help, Harry and Ron soon picked up on it.

Michael bade them goodbye as soon as class was over, and hurried off to the Gryffindor common room to meet Luna. He got there first and waited for her, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, ignoring the Fat Lady's snide comments.

She finally appeared after about a five minutes wait, out of breath and carrying a stack of books. "I'm sorry!" she said as soon as she was within audible range, "I got held up by Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration… Apparently she heard something about the two of us being out late last night."

"Yeah, I talked to Dumbledore about that," he said, taking the books from her arms. "Don't worry" he added quickly, "I didn't tell him what we spoke about, but I convinced him to leave it alone."

"That's good," Luna said cheerfully. "It was very awkward having Professor McGonagall try to ask me if I was having sex, I'm glad we won't have to have that conversation again. Shall we go to the Room of Requirement then?"

"Sure, lead the way."

It took them a few minutes to reach the room, and they talked happily about random, trivial things along the way. It wasn't until they were on the seventh floor that Luna turned the conversation more serious.

"So, I was wondering…" she said, still laughing at a story he had just finished about his, Jeff, and Sarah's adventures in STRIKE, "if you could tell me about my mum? When she was in STRIKE?"

"I wasn't there, obviously, but she's a legend in the organization," Michael told her. "It's crazy to think she was doing the same job I am now when we were kids…making us sandwiches by day and taking down Dark Wizards at night. Your mom was pretty well liked by everyone, Luna. She…well they don't talk about her a lot around STRIKE, because of what happened to her…but when they do, it's with a kind of awe. If she wasn't so popular and skilled, I might never have heard about her. I'd never have known what happened to you…there's two degrees of separation between us, actually. I replaced Captain James Fargo when he died three months ago; he had been head of special forces since your mom…left. I –" Michael hesitated, balking at the idea of suggesting an idea he might not ever be able to make real.

"Yes?"

"Some time…later," Michael said slowly, "if things ever change – between you, me, and STRIKE, I mean – I could try to find someone who worked with your mom to tell you about her. Two of the other Captains I know would have been in the same role when your mom was. They…they're older, you know, so it's not like we're best friends. But maybe I could find someone."

"That would be nice," Luna smiled.

"Well, anyway, there are really two kinds of operatives in STRIKE: One kind which tries to always save as many lives as possible, while still handling the job efficiently. The second type of person doesn't care about lives other than his own and his close friends, if anyone. They do however, get the job done without fail.

"Your mom was the first type," he told her. "She never took a life if it meant innocent blood would be shed, and she was the best at making sure that never happened. She still holds the record for most ever missions run by an agent without a death on either side."

"And what about you?" Luna asked him, "Which type are you?"

"I think mostly the first, but… my body count is a lot higher than your mom's was, and she was fighting for a lot longer than I have been."

"Well, I think you sound exactly like the first type" she said confidently, "I can't imagine you killing anyone, unless it was really necessary."

"You've only known me for a day" he reminded her.

"No, I've known you for years" she corrected him. "But I wouldn't have to, to know that. Anyone who spoke to you for more than a few minutes could tell that you're a good person."

"Does it bother you that I've killed someone?" Michael asked her bluntly. She was already starting to rub off on him. "That I've killed _multiple _people?"

"No," Luna said after a moment, shaking her head. "I can't imagine you enjoy it very much –"

"No," Michael said quickly.

"I believe you're doing good," Luna said, suddenly serious. "I believe that."

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "Is this it?" he asked as they came to a stop before a large expanse of blank wall.

"Yes, it is."

"Luna, I don't mean to burst your bubble, but there's nothing here…" he said doubtfully.

"What are we using this room for?" Luna asked him, ignoring his doubt.

"To train in," he answered, still looking at her disbelievingly. "But what room are we talking about here?"

"Just wait," she said patiently. She paced back and forth in front of the wall, eyes closed. Michael watched her, wondering what she thought would happen. His eyes widened in surprise as a large wooden door appeared where the wall just was, and Luna stopped walking and looked at him.

"How in the hell did you do that?" he asked, still staring uncertainly at the door.

"Come inside," she said." She pulled the door open and stepped inside, Michael followed behind her, looking around in awe. The room was enormous, filled with everything he could possibly ask for to train seven people.

There were piles of books in one corner, a number of humanoid dummies in another. The floor was soft and padded, and there were a number of wooden swords, staffs, and other weapons hanging on a wall.

"Wow," he said, amazed he had doubted Luna. "This is really something else you've got here. Ever use it for anything else?"

"Like what?" she asked, also examining the features of the room.

"I don't know, anything," he said, shrugging. "This would be good for anytime you wanted to be left alone, I bet," he finished, a knowing look in his eye.

"Like do I ever hide here when people tease me?" she asked bluntly, seeing exactly what he meant.

"Well…yeah," he muttered uncomfortably. He hadn't intended to pry. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Yes, when I was younger," she told him with a faraway look; Michael supposed she was remembering those days. "But it turned out to be a good thing. Because of that, I was able to show Harry where the DA could meet last year," she added brightly.

"So, how exactly _do_ you get in?" he asked, trying to change the subject from painful memories.

"Oh, it's easy," she assured him. She explained how to make the door appear, and how to make it become exactly what you desired.

"This is great," he said enthusiastically. "So, can you be back here after lessons today? Harry and all the others are coming so we can start some training."

"I'll be there," Luna said. "But, can you do something for me Michael?" she asked, looking uncharacteristically down.

"Probably," he said confidently, "I can do a lot of things, what'd you need?"

"Could you tell Harry and the others everything for me?" she asked. "I don't know if it's something I want to go into so much detail about right now…."

"Of course," he said soothingly, "I'll tell them, but do you want me to do it today? If not, I'll just tell that you're here because I asked…"

"No, they should know today," she said, shaking her head and sending her blonde hair flying. "Please tell them as soon as you can."

"Whatever you think is best," he said. He glanced at the clock that hung opposite the weapons. "We should probably go. It's almost time for class."

"I thought you chose to go to class or not yourself," she asked. "Or did Professor Dumbledore threaten to send you into the Forbidden Forest?"

"The what now?"

"The Forbidden Forest," Luna repeated calmly. "It's a rather horrible place filled with all kinds of terrible creatures like giant spiders and Feasting Flies. Professor Dumbledore sometimes sends students there for detention." Michael blinked. "He's a very good teacher besides that though!" Luna added earnestly. "And there's a very nice giant who lives there too, I think he might be Hagrid's brother, his name is Gwarp." She smiled placidly at Michael as he took stock of the horrors she had described to him. Michael marveled that anyone without combat training managed to survive this school for seven years.

"But anyway," Luna went on, as if none of the creatures she had mentioned – though Michael had never once heard of a Feasting Fly – had the ability to tear them limb from limb, "I thought you chose what classes to go to?"

"Well, I do!" he said defensively. "But if I just stop showing up to anything, people will start to wonder."

"Yes, I suppose I need to go too," she agreed. "Where are you going?" Michael had to rummage in his pocket for his schedule to double check.

"Erm…Charms," he responded. "What about you?"

"Arithmacy, with the Slytherins" she said, a small frown on her face.

"Ah, well, maybe you'll get to pick a few fights, eh?" Michael said, trying to sound jealous. He immediately felt stupid saying it.

"You haven't ever been in an Arithmacy class, have you?" Luna asked, now with a smile.

"I actually have no idea what Arithmacy is, to be honest," he admitted as they left the room together. The second they were out the doorway, it melted back into plain wall. They parted ways at the first floor. Michael handed her back her books and headed down to Charms, to join the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jeff snarled at him the moment he caught sight of Michael, who slid into his seat at the table closest to the door at the last second before the bell. He and Harry where wearing looks of equal annoyance and humor, while Ron and Hermione scowled at each other, sitting on Jeff's left and Harry's right.

"Why, what happened?" he asked warily as Professor Flitwick began his lecture, disregarding Jeff's question. He spoke quietly, as it was far too easy to accidently talk over Flitwick's squeaky voice.

"Didn't I tell you if anyone tried to kill each other, I'd have to deal with it?" he asked angrily.

"What the hell are you talking about Allero?" Michael asked, eying the group in turn, lingering on the furious Ron and Hermione. "If two people nearly died in two days, things really have changed in the year I haven't been at school." He thought of what Luna had told him about the Forest.

"These two!" Jeff replied in a whisper, pointing at Ron and Hermione, who were now glaring in opposite directions. "I thought you and Scrimgeour had big fights, but that's nothing compared to them."

"Well, if Ron wasn't a pig, maybe we wouldn't!" Hermione said harshly. She crossed her arms and turned to the front of the class, determined to pay attention only to Flitwick.

"What?" Ron shot back at her, "It was a compliment!" Sarah buried her face in her hands and shook her head. Hermione's only response was a quick 'sushing' noise.

Michael laughed to himself – everything seemed about three times as funny lately – and copied Hermione, turning his attention to the little Professor, who had thankfully been to engrossed in his lesson to notice the spat in the back of his class. Overall Michael enjoyed the Charms lesson. His year in the Aurors and STRIKE had taught him combat spells and skills that were far above any of his classmates, yet his early exit from school meant he was somewhat lacking in traditional, day-to-day charms.

It was what came after Charms that Michael found truly unpleasant.

Michael pulled Harry, Ron, and Hermione aside before Herbology, away from the rest of the gathered students, hesitated momentarily, and then launched into the story of he, Luna, and her mother. He found it more difficult talking about it with the Trio than he had with Luna, which surprised Michael, as Luna was the one affected by it all, but he persevered to keep his promise. As expected, all three were horrified by Luna's circumstances, but supportive of Michael's decision and Hermione in particular expressed excitement for Luna to make a new friend.

So then after their last period, Herbology, the six teenagers headed off to the seventh floor to meet Luna, Michael leading the way. As they reached the corridor which contained the Room of requirement, Michael stopped abruptly. Turning to look straight at them he took a deep breath.

"Listen, there's something I need to say. Luna was the one who insisted I tell you everything about her past, which means she trusts you a lot. But I know she doesn't want you to treat her any differently. She just found out her mom was murdered, but she needs to work that out on her own, unless she comes to you about it. All right?"

They all nodded seriously, and continued down the passage. They found Luna waiting outside the door, and she greeted them all cheerfully. The Trio greeted her warmly, but Sarah and Jeff hung back a bit to wait for Michael to make introductions. But Michael didn't say anything to either of them, he was staring at Luna's feet.

"Is something wrong?" she asked Michael, noticing his look.

"Luna, where are your shoes?" Michael asked, rubbing the back of her neck. Jeff and Sarah glanced down as well, and Harry gave him a look.

"I'm not sure," Luna said thoughtfully, scrunching up her face. "I had them on during Charms, then I took a nap before Transfiguration. I sleep with my shoes on, you know, but they were gone when I woke up. I wear them to bed because –"

"You sleepwalk," Michael supplied. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I remember. You made your parents breakfast with your eyes closed when you were eight, you told me all about it the next day. But why don't you have your shoes _now_?"

"Well, someone probably hid them," Luna hypothesized. Michael frowned.

"Your friends playing a joke on you?"

"No," Luna replied with a small smile. "I don't really have any friends besides you." She nodded at the assembled group, all of whom showed varying degrees of embarrassment. Michael wasn't sure what to say – Luna hadn't been especially popular when they had been children either, but Michael supposed teenagers could be crueler than young children. He felt distinctly horrible for Luna, who seemed totally unbothered by this. "It's all right," she assured Michael, "with friends like you all, why would I need anyone else?"

Michael was seized by a desire to hold Luna very close to him; his heart seemed to jump against his chest in an attempt to be closer to her. But there were a number of reasons this would be highly inappropriate at the moment, so Michael compromised by merely touching her arm as he walked closer to the wall. A look Michael had not yet seen crossed Luna's face as he did so. It was gone in a second, as was his hand, and Michael turned his attention back to the task before them.

Michael proceeded to make three passes before the Room, causing the same door to reappear. He opened it and led everyone inside.

The Trio, Jeff, and Sarah gaped at the room the same way he had. Jeff marched over to the weapons and began inspecting them, while Harry and Ron pulled a few of the dummies into the center of the room. Hermione, Sarah, and Luna remained standing with Michael, questioning him about what he was planning.

"Remember the demonstration we got from Captain Fargo, Sarah?" he asked her. She smiled reminiscently.

"When he offered to teach us? Of course," she said. "How could I forget? Is that what you're going to do with them?"

"It made an impression, didn't it?" Michael asked. Sarah laughed.

"Yes, I suppose it did."

"Great, let's get to it then." He closed his eyes tightly, muttering under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked around expectantly, and was pleased to see a stack of thick books lying near the other volumes of literature.

He walked over and picked them up with a grunt. As he carried them to the middle of the room, where Ron and Harry were already taking practice shots at the dummies, he called them all to him.

Jeff put back the long sword he had been studying, and seeing what Michael was doing, grinned as he strolled into the center to join the others, all of whom looked confused and expectant, apart from Sarah.

"Catch," Michael said, tossing Harry one of the books, which he caught easily. "Jeff, Sarah, back up a bit," he continued, throwing Ron, Hermione and Luna all one in turn, keeping one clutched in his hand.

"These are full of blank pages," Hermione said, already having cracked open the thick tome. She flipped through the pages hopefully, but closed it with a disappointed look.

"I know," Michael said. "I didn't want you to lose your mind in the next minute. Anyway, do me a favor and tear those in half for me," he added casually.

They all shared bewildered looks. "Uh, tear it in half?" Ron said uncertainly. Michael nodded once at him. "Um, okay…" he began to pull it all different ways, employing all his strength, but to no effect. The others copied him, although Luna muttered strange words under her breath, apparently convinced that this would increase her strength. If it did, it was still not enough and she gave up, instead placing the book at her feet and sitting down on top of it. She propped her chin in her hands with her elbows on her knees and watched.

"Well, there's an easy way to do this," said Hermione, who had barely tried to do any damage. She drew out her wand, but the second it was out of her pocket, it flew across the room, and Michael was looking at her with his wand pointed at her and a complacent smile on his face.

"My wand!" she cried indignantly.

"Is a Dark Wizard going to let you keep your wand?" Michael asked boorishly. "Is he going to leave you any way to defend yourself? No, no he will not. That is why you must leave yourself a way to protect yourself."

With that he dropped the leather-bound book in his hand to his feet, and took a breath. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna all stared in disbelief as before their eyes, Michael Jacobs transformed from a man standing in front of them, into a lean white wolf.

It snatched up the book its jaws and proceeded to tear it apart, shaking its head rapidly. Once it had been reduced to shreds, the wolf spit the remainder out of its mouth, threw back its snowy head, and let out a howl. Strangely, it didn't make Luna feel afraid, she actually felt safer with the wolf, which was now bounding around the room at blazing speeds, near her.

"I think that's enough showing off Michael," Jeff said, as Michael made to take another lap. The wolf skidded to a stop inches from him, looking up at him, fangs bared and growling. Jeff, however, didn't seem impressed.

"Think you're a big man, huh? We'll see…" With that Jeff too morphed into a wolf, this one with a dark brown coat of fur. The two wolves circled each other, Sarah backing off a few paces.

"Guys," she said slowly, actually looking afraid, "There's no need to – Oh my God!" she cried as the two wolves launched at each other, leaping into the air towards each other, claws out and with equal howls of fury.

Hermione screamed and turned away, shielding her eyes. Luna stared, her mouth wide open. But there was no need: Michael and Jeff were lying in a heap, back in human form and roaring with laughter.

Sarah looked absolutely furious.

"What the hell?" she screamed hysterically. "That's not what Fargo did to show us the wolf form! I really thought you were going to kill each other!" Both boys continued to laugh. "I'm going to kick your asses!"

"Sorry, sorry," Michael wheezed, out of breath from laughter. "But you can't deny that was hilarious!"

"Yeah, it was!" Jeff put in, "We planned it out right before we came up here! The looks on your faces!" he said, turning to the other four, who had remained rooted to the same spot, watching with horror at first, now mingled admiration and laughter on Harry and Ron's faces, terror on Hermione's, and polite curiosity on Luna's.

"How long have you been doing that?" she asked, as Sarah stormed away, not amused by her friends' antics.

"Four or so months. And get the hell off me," he added, trying to disentangle himself from Jeff. "Sarah can too, but I don't think she'll oblige with a demonstration right now…."

But at that exact moment a slender black wolf came speeding at the two, who rolled opposite directions to avoid it. It slid a few feet, then spun around to face them, growling deeply.

"Look, sorry okay?" Jeff apologized, picking himself up and dusting off his robes. "No need to go all she-wolf on us, okay?"

"Yeah, it was a bad idea," Michael said, hastily getting to his feet too. "Sorry we scared you."  
With a last snarl, she slowly changed from a wolf on four paws, back to Sarah Crystalake, standing on her feet, and still glaring at them.

"_You_, scare _me_?" Sarah repeated. "Not likely."

"So how long will it take us?" Ron asked excitedly. "How long did it take you?"

"Glad to see you appreciate the usefulness of such a skill," Michael said with a satisfied grin, "Our Captain in STRIKE taught us the Animagus form shortly before he died. There's a book we used, I'll get you all a copy. If you want it, that is."

"Of course!" Harry and Ron said at the same time. Luna considered him for a moment.

"Well, I have heard that wolves frighten Heliotropes," she said fairly, "Okay, I'll do it. But you didn't say how long it would take."

But Michael was watching Hermione, who was staring at the destroyed book, a fearful look on her face.

"You all want to be able to do that?" she asked, pointing to the mass of wet paper strips. "You want to do that to a human being?" There was incredulity and disgust in her voice.

"That's no worse than what they would do to us!" Ron said angrily. But Michael shook his head.

"Actually, none of us has ever killed another person in wolf form," he said coolly. "That is a huge part of why we learned this power. Imagine how many fights you could prevent just by changing forms. It's enough to make most Death Eaters run before they have a chance to kill anybody, namely you."

Hermione looked at him oddly, her eyes narrowed slightly. Then she sighed.

"You make a good point Michael, I'm sorry I jumped at you like that. I think it's actually a good idea, I'll do it."

"Great," Michael said, looking relieved. "And here's your wand, sorry about that" he added, summoning it wordlessly and tossing it to her. "And to answer your question, it could take anywhere from a week," he gestured at Sarah, "or a two," he gestured to himself.

"Do you have the book with you?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, here…." He waved his wand and four copies of a small paperback book fell into his hands. "Don't worry," he added with a smirk to Ron, as he had blanched at the sight of extra books, "It's mainly a lot of pictures." Ron gave him a look, but said nothing.

He handed each of them one. Hermione immediately began flipping through hers, eyebrows raised, impressed by the simple, yet precise instructions. Harry took his with a question.

"This is brilliant and all," he said "But we've got lessons, Quidditch season will start soon, and we have lot of other things to do, when are we going to find time for this?"

"Just read the book during class, as long as it isn't Dumbledore's or McGonagall's," Michael suggested. "I don't think you'd survive if one of them caught you slacking off."

Just then he heard a loud growl and thought that Jeff or Sarah had returned to wolf form, but then realized it was his own stomach.

"Wow, I'm starving," he said, suddenly aware they were missing dinner. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Seconded" Jeff murmured.

"Thirded" Ron grumbled.

Let's go then," Michael said, as the others headed out the door. "Join us for dinner, Luna?"

"At the Gryffindor table?" she asked, "I'm not sure if that's allowed."

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked. "None of you have a problem with that, do you?" he added, glancing around at the others, all of whom shook their heads. Luna beamed.

"I hope we're having soup," she said enthusiastically. "Did you know onion soup is very good with Maltese beetles? And sometimes I like to mix my pumpkin juice with stew, it's very good –"

"And I thought you looked excited," Jeff muttered to Michael as Luna went on.

"It's going to be so nice to eat together, all of us friends," Luna said eagerly. "You don't see too many Slytherins at the Hufflepuff table, do you?"

"Well no," Michael said slowly, considering this, "But that's just because the Slytherins are too stupid to tell snakes from dildos."

All the boys laughed loudly, Sarah bit her lip and stared determinedly away from anyone else, and Hermione looked like she would rather be with Voldemort than Michael at the moment. But Luna turned to Michael, eyes wide.

"I remember that," she whispered. "I…I remember that horrible, horrible saying from when we knew each other!"

"Yeah, and you thought it was funny then too," Michael said proudly.

"Hold on," Harry said, "what kind of eleven year old talks about – that – anyway?"

"Hey," Michael said defensively "I was nearly twelve, give me a break!" They laughed all the way to dinner, where they heaped large portions of spaghetti onto their plates, thrilled at the prospect of their new powers.

"Are you sure we'll all be able to actually become wolves?" Luna asked Michael as he contemplated his goblet of pumpkin juice. She was sitting on his left, paying more attention to him than to her food.

"Yeah," Michael said, shrugging and adding a small amount of the orange liquid to his bowl of stew. "Normally you don't choose what form you take when you become an Animagus, but Fargo was something of a master Animagus. He invented a learning technique that allows a person to choose their animal, if their will is strong enough." Michael tasted a spoonful of stew and was surprised to find it actually was very good.

"Captain Fargo was pretty great," Sarah agreed from across the table. "He always took an interest in us." She leaned in closer so only the group of seven could hear. "He was the one who recommended we not register with the Ministry."

"Captain before Fargo was a renown Metamorphous," Michael said, looking over at Luna. She set down her drink and raised her eyebrows. "Your mom didn't have either of those skills – as far as I know – so it's even more impressive she was able to become Captain. Special forces usually likes their Captains to have one of those powers."

Luna raised her pale eyebrows. "I wonder what kind of powers she did have…" she said thoughtfully. Michael had a feeling she was talking more to herself than to him. "I never saw her fight anyone for any reason."

"Neither did I," Michael replied. "But that's a pretty shallow way to judge a Witch or Wizard's skills.

"I wonder if Mum _was _an Animagus," Luna said pensively. "She loved to fly…maybe she was a bird?"

"I don't know Luna," Michael said doubtfully. "Your mom didn't need gimmicks to be an amazing Witch –"

" – whereas Michael needs to revert to an animal form to frighten anyone," Hermione quipped, obviously still sore with him for the argument as well as the destruction of the books.

"You're mad Hermione," Ron said disbelievingly. "He might look like a scrawny bloke, but he's got some serious powers."

Jeff nearly spat out his drink as he laughed at Ron's joke, but Harry seemed deep in thought about something, as he had been since Michael had shown him his Animagus form. Michael took out his wand with his left hand and aimed it back and forth between Jeff and Ron, unsure whom he wanted to hex more. Just as he settled on Ron, Luna placed a small hand on top of his own and gently pushed his wand arm back down to bench they sat on.

"You can't spend your whole life fighting," Luna said serenely. "Your stew will get cold." Michael opened his mouth, glanced at his friends, then shut his mouth again. He picked his spoon back up, but didn't move his left hand from its position; Luna made no effort to free her hand either.


	14. Chapter 14: The Hunt Begins

Over the next few weeks, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna practiced constantly in their Animagus training. So far, Harry had managed to change his arms into the much shorter ones of a black wolf, and Ron had succeeded in comically giving himself a wolf's head.

Hermione, to much personal distress, had so far been unable to change any of her body at all, except for growing a light coat of fur all over her body, which left her hiding in a bathroom until Sarah put her right. Ron and Harry seemed to find this more significant and amusing than anyone else.

Luna, however, had now completely transformed into a white-blond wolf twice, resulting in Ron nearly having a heart attack when she surprised him as he entered the Room of Requirement one day.

"I'm still not getting it!" Hermione cried exasperatedly during a practice session in the Room. Luna had just morphed back to human form for the third time, after a race with Michael around the room, during which the others cheered loudly for one or the other.

"Look, it takes time," Michael said patiently, "It took me a while too, and you guys have only been at it for two weeks. Just keep working at it."

"I _have been_ working at it" she said resentfully. "It doesn't work right for me, maybe I'm doing it wrong."

"Listen, what you've got to understand, is that this isn't normal for an Animagus," he told her. "Most Wizards just become the animal that fits closest to their personality, or one they like. You aren't anything like a wolf, Hermione. Or you're at least less than the rest of us, so it's going to be harder for you. It's just something you'll have to get past."

"See, Hermione," said Ron from the side of the room where he and Harry were working, "You just have to be more vicious, come on!" With that he reared back his head, which became elongated into that of a burgundy wolf, and let out an earsplitting howl.

"Maybe she should spend more time talking to you Ron," Luna suggested mildly, "That always seems to make her mad."

"No thank you, Luna," Hermione said testily, "I'd rather throw myself at the mercy of the Death Eaters than spend more time talking to him!" she said, pointing a finger at Ron.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked angrily.

Before Hermione could answer however, Michael held up one hand to quiet her and patted his pocket with his other hand. Looking surprised, he plunged his hand into his pocket and extracted the small stone disc. He looked at the side of the stone. The letters spelling out the name "_Cassandra Sleigh_" rotated around the side of the disc, illuminated in bright orange, almost fiery, writing. Michael tapped the disc with his wand.

A woman appeared in a small flickering form, but Michael turned away so no one could see and spoke quietly. He could hear the others speaking behind him even while he tried to pay attention to what

"What's he doing?" Harry asked Jeff and Sarah, who had been dueling, but stopped to watch Michael curiously.

"It's a Morgana Disc" Jeff said, pulling out his own. "Or MD for short. Named for the creator of the spell, STRIKE agent back in the eighties. They work similarly to a Protean Charm," he said to Hermione, who nodded, "but allow for face to face communication. I'd love to get you four some, but well…we're kind of trying to stay as far away from STRIKE as possible at the moment."

"Because of me," Luna said to the others quietly, so that the woman Michael spoke to couldn't hear her. "Michael thinks STRIKE may try to kill him if they find out we're friends. I hope they don't – I don't want to have to fight the people my mum worked with."

"Are you sure?" Michael was saying sharply, "Completely sure? Well, which one is it?"

Everyone behind him shared a look of shock and anticipation. Ron looked like he might be sick, and he asked, "Is he saying what I think he's saying? Have your people found one of the Slytherin Seven?"

"Not that I heard about," Sarah said, checking her MD as well. "I guess they just tried to contact Michael, he is in charge…."

Michael spoke in a rush, almost finished with his call, "Okay, I'll check it out… Right, talk to you later." He tapped the disc again, vanishing the woman, and turned back to his friends looking grave.

"What's going on?" Harry asked immediately, "Have you found one of the Seven?"

"Yes, Cassandra from Intelligence certainly thinks so," he said, "and her information is usually good, so this is probably the real deal."

"Which one is it?" Ron asked, obviously trying to look calm. "And where?"

"It's the Ring," he said nodding at Ron, "And as for the location, it's believed to be on an island in the Caribbean, on the island of St. Lucia. It's about two hundred and thirty miles, Cassandra says. And… I think about a hundred and sixty thousand people. I leave tomorrow." He tried very hard to add in the last statement as if it was nothing, but all six of his friends were too sharp to be fooled.

Luna eyed him innocently, "Don't you mean we leave tomorrow?"

"No, I'm going this alone… Not because it's dangerous!" he added quickly. "Because I can handle it alone, there's no need for you all to leave school!"

"What about Jeff and Sarah?" Hermione asked, gesturing at the irritated faces of the other two STRIKE agents. "They can leave, why they aren't going? You're hiding something."

"Are you?" Luna asked quietly. "What aren't you telling us?"

He looked at them all steadily, into Harry and Hermione's suspicious faces, Ron's nervous one, into Jeff and Sarah's looks of annoyance, and Luna's plain curiosity.

"Fine, you deserve to know what's really going on here. You all know that Voldemort's after the Seven too?" They all nodded, having explained it all to Luna weeks ago. "Well, the word is he's hired a new agent to hunt them for him."

"A new Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"No, not from what I've heard. This guy's working for profit, and he hasn't got a Dark Mark, as far as we know."

"So he's a mercenary," Jeff said, pulling out his wand. "No problem, what can one idiot do against the seven of us?" he asked proudly.

"Too much" Michael said shortly. "No one's seen his face or knows his a name, but he's already personally responsible for the deaths of ten different STRIKE agents. So far."

"Ten agents?" Sarah repeated, her face contorted with disgust. "That's- that's impossible! Only Voldemort could…."

Michael shook his head. "I don't know how this guy is so powerful, but Cassandra thinks that there's a good chance he's gotten wind of the Ring's location too… So I'm going myself, posing as a tourist."

"Michael, if this was able to take ten of us down…" Jeff began, but he cut across him.

"Then it's better he only has one more target, instead of seven. Don't worry about me, I can handle this…" he finished bravely, with a blatantly fake smile. No one returned it, they were too busy staring at him coldly.

Finally, Ron spoke. "If we're not going to help you find the Seven, what have we been training for?" he asked angrily.

"To be able to protect yourselves!" Michael said loudly, past the point of patience. "I only wanted Jeff and Sarah to help find the Seven, and not with this! This is too much, even I'm in over my head!" He threw his hands up, both angry and a little scared. "But this has to be done, and I'm not going to let this maniac kill my friends! Luna, I just got you back, you think I'm going to risk losing you?" He shook his head and glared down at his feet. No one said anything for a moment.

"Michael," Luna said softly, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. She lifted his chin with a finger and looked directly into his eyes. "Michael, we all feel the same way about you. I feel the same way. We can't let you do this alone, you said that you didn't want us to die, right? Well, I know the worry would kill me. Please, let us do this. I care about you very much, I don't want you to be hurt."

He stared at her for a long time. Then he glanced around at all the others, who were watching them, looking slightly uncomfortable at Luna's pronouncement.

"You all feel the same?" he asked quietly, "You really want to go with me to do this? Even knowing what could be waiting for us?"

"Come on, Michael!" Jeff said, "When have any of us, especially you, ever cared about what could happen? Let's say in a worst case scenario, we do end up in a fight with this guy. So what? We've taken scum like this before!"

"Whatever it is we're heading into, I've probably faced worse," Harry said, unable to keep a little snark from his voice.

"And you need me" Ron reminded him. "You can't destroy it if I'm not there with you when we find it."

"So it's settled then," Sarah said happily, "We're all taking a vacation to the Caribbean! This is going to be great, I haven't been to the beach in too long!"

Michael couldn't help but smile. "All right, we'll do it together" he told them, "but Dumbledore'll have to clear it for you four," he said to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna.

"Don't worry about Dumbledore," Harry said confidently, "leave him to me."

"Harry's his favorite," Ron told Michael, "He wouldn't tell him no to anything. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn't say no to you either!"

"Speaking of you and Dumbledore," Hermione said as they exited the Room, "What ever happened to Professor Snape?"

Michael growled angrily. Snape had still not been freed, though Dumbledore was putting his best efforts into it. His trial date was set for two months in the future, which meant that if Scrimgeour got his way, Snape would spend at least three months in Azkaban, even if he was found innocent.

"Dumbledore's working on it," he told them crossly. "And I'm not to interfere."

"Interfere?" Ron repeated. "What do you mean?"

He explained to them how Scrimgeour had destroyed his statement, and how he had agreed not to do anything to anger the Minister. He finished as they slid into their usual places at the Gryffindor table: Hermione, Harry, and Sarah on one side with Ron, Jeff, Michael, and Luna on the other.

Following dinner, Harry set off for the Headmaster's office to acquire Dumbledore's permission. The five Gryffindors said goodbye to Luna and headed for their common room, finding it pleasantly quiet. Michael explained that they would take a Portkey directly onto a cruise ship which was bound for St. Lucia.

"A Muggle cruise boat, huh?" Ron had asked, looking at Hermione, clearly trying to decide whether or not he would like it.

"Nope," Michael corrected him. "Wizarding. Only one in the world, actually, so enjoy full use of magic while we're onboard."

"I didn't even know Wizards had ships like that," Ron said.

"Sarah did," Jeff said under his breath.

"I'm not that rich!" Sarah said defensively, crossing her arms.

"Oh no, you just take a trip on the only Wizarding cruise line once a year because you get discount coupons from Butterbeer bottles."

"Anyway," Michael said over his friends' chatter, "yes, it's the only one. There's not that many Wizards in the world, but the one ship always fills up. It goes all around the world, lucky for us it's making a stop in the Caribbean."

Most of the tourists to the island came from a boat, and it would help their cover to appear as normal as possible, in case they were being watched. Much to Sarah's displeasure, Michael informed them that as they had no idea how close the unknown mercenary was to finding the Ring, there was no time to actually take the boat from port to port.

Harry joined them about half an hour after dinner, looking grim and angry. He threw himself into one of the armchairs and addressed Ron and Hermione.

"We've got a problem," he sighed. "Dumbledore said that the only way the three of us could go is if we got our parents' permission. Luna doesn't need to because she's of age, but we have to get these signed," he said, handing them each a sheet of paper.

Hermione read it quickly, then sat back, eyes closed, trying to decide how best to convince her parents to allow her to go. Ron however, looked miserable.

"There's no way my parents will sign this," he said dejectedly, "Mum would go crazy if she knew what we were doing!"

"Yeah, and this probably sounds like a vacation to the Durselys" Harry moaned. "They would never let me go if they think this is going to be fun."

"Well, there is one thing…" Jeff said, glancing at Michael, "But it means lying to Dumbledore, and I suppose technically everyone else."

"Doubles?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who would do it?"

"There are plenty of agents who would love a break from field work," Jeff told him, glad he had caught on. "I bet we could get a couple of guys and a girl to do it…"

"Do what?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I didn't give you this idea," Jeff said, looking at him sharply, "But it could be arranged for just me, Michael, Luna, and Sarah to leave… As far as Dumbledore would know, that is."

"Go on," Harry said eagerly.

"Well, we'd get a few hairs from each of you, and we'd, I don't know, give them to three STRIKE agents, and maybe they come and stay at Hogwarts for a while," Jeff said airily.

"Sounds great," Harry said, grinning. "When can we do this?"

"I'll contact them tonight," Michael said, chuckling as Ron actually grabbed his own hair and yanked some out, eyes watering. "We'll meet them somewhere and you can switch places. We can be on the ship by the afternoon," he said, finally able to sound excited. "As long as everyone's okay with that," he added to Hermione.

"Well, I don't like lying to Professor Dumbledore," she said, to pleading looks on Harry and Ron's faces, "But what would you do without me?"

"Lose a lot of fights?" Luna suggested.

"So you're going?" Ron asked, ignoring Luna.

"Yes, I suppose so," she said with a sigh.

"Don't sound so excited, Hermione," Sarah said sarcastically, "This is a mission we're on, as Michael has been so kind as to point out eighty-three times in the last hour."

The others went up to their dorms, but Michael stayed awake for another hour, calling contacts and favors. After finally arranging the details for their escape tomorrow, he went to bed too.

Michael slept easily that night, and woke up feeling energized and a little nervous. They packed their trunks and magically sent them to the location Michael told them. They hurried down to the Great Hall, but not to breakfast. Instead, they turned down a deserted corridor, away from everyone else in the school. They met Luna outside their destination, the bathrooms. She like the others, was dressed in Muggle clothing: khaki shorts and a plain white tank top, along with a necklace of corks.

She and Michael smiled at each other. Michael hastily looked around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but Luna didn't waver. "You smell nice," she said pleasantly. Jeff stifled a snort with his mouth closed.

"Thanks," Michael said, punching Jeff in the upper arm. "I like your necklace."

"Butterbeer corks," she said, beaming.

"Ready to go?" Sarah asked.

"Almost," Michael replied, "Just got to get these three into character." With that he, Jeff, Ron, and Harry entered the boys' bathroom, Hermione and Sarah the other. Luna put her hands behind her back and swayed back and forth, humming happily.

"You guys in here?" Michael called around the apparently vacant room.

"Here," a voice answered gruffly.

With a flourish, two men pulled off the invisibility cloak they had been under and stopped forward to greet them. One of them shook hands with Michael and Jeff first, then with Harry and Ron. One man was bulky and powerfully built, looking interested at this newest assignment. The other man resembled Jeff, but with a more lanky frame, though a cleverer, slightly more arrogant, face.

"Lock the door," the second man said sharply to Harry. Harry looked taken aback by the command, but drew out his wand and did what he was told. Jeff glared at him, but said nothing.

"Thanks for doing this," Michael told them, holding out a strand of black and a strand of red hair. He put each in a different fist behind his back, then held his clenched fists out to them. "Pick one," he said.

The larger man tapped his right hand, and Michael held out the black hair to him. "Well, Kevin, looks like you get to be Harry Potter for a while."

"So I'm Ron Weasley then" the other man said indifferently, "Any major enemies to watch out for?" he added to Ron, who shook his head. "Too bad, I was looking forward to a fight."

"You four can go ahead and go" Kevin told them, "Me and Jace already have the potion mixed, we just need to add the hairs… Oh, and here's the Portkey," he added, handing Michael a Muggle playing card.

"Alright, and thanks again," Michael said, turning to leave.

"Good seeing you Kevin," Jeff said pointedly. "Take care of yourself." He too started to leave, but the other man called after him.

"What Jeff? Nothing to say to your own brother? Think you're too cool now that you've got a secret mission?"

"Fuck off, Jace" Jeff said curtly. "I don't have time for your shit right now."

"Whatever you say, little brother. Have fun on your vacation, I'll be here, like always, left to clean up your mess."

Jeff made to shout back at him, but Michael pulled him out the door. "He's not worth it," he said quietly. "If you two end up fighting, it will draw all kinds of attention we don't need!"

"You're one to talk –!" Jeff seethed as the door swung shut.

"Is something wrong?" Luna asked politely, "I could hear you yelling. Very loudly."

"Just a little family reunion," Jeff said shortly.

"Jeff never got along with his brother Jace," Michael told her, still waiting for Hermione and Sarah to come out.

"Gee, what was your first clue?" Jeff snarled. Michael said nothing, he knew Jeff's anger would dissolve once they got on the boat and he saw a few girls in their swimsuits, something Michael was looking forward too as well.

Hermione and Sarah emerged a minute later, and they all checked the possessions they had on them. All fingered their wands, and Harry touched the Invisibility Cloak inside his robes. Satisfied they were not missing anything, they all touched a finger to their Portkey, glanced around one last time while Michael counted, "Three, two, one!"

At end of the count they were all jerked forward, spinning rapidly, trying to stop from yelling, though there was no one to hear them. A second later, the spinning stopped and Michael felt the warm sun on his face. All around them noises of splashing and yelling filled their ears.

He opened his eyes and looked around. They were standing on the deck of a colossal ship, surrounded by people enjoying themselves on their vacation. Not far from them was a long pool, where a group of kids were throwing Fanged Frisbee at each other, standing in the shallow end and trying to dodge the dangerous projectile. Michael couldn't help but smirk when Jeff nudged him, discreetly pointing at the chairs set up all around the pool, most of which were occupied by very pretty girls wearing very little clothing.

A man with a bushy mustache came striding over to them, and judging by his attire, he seemed to be the captain. He shook hands with them all and greeted them warmly.

"Ah, welcome, my friends," he said grandly, "to the finest – and only – Wizarding cruise ship on the sea! The _Merlin_ is not only largest ship on the water, but also the fastest. I am correct in assuming I am speaking to the Jacobs party, am I not?"

"Yes, you are" Michael said. "This is an amazing ship you've got, too bad we won't be able to take a full cruise."

"Ah yes, most unfortunate!" he cried dramatically, as if being denied a trip on his boat was the most wretched thing he could imagine. "But urgent duty calls, sir! Duty calls! Do tell Cecelia I said hello, won't you?" he added with a wink.

"Yes, of course," Michael said obligingly.

"Well, I imagine you all want to take a look around, so I'll leave you to it! If you'll all place your thumbs on these," he said, thrusting three pieces of plastic into each person's hand. "These will learn your fingerprint and enchant your room to only open to your touch." Each person did as they were told, and then handed back their cards to the captain. "Thank you very much, your bags will be in your rooms, which will open to you now. Good day to you all!" With that, he walked flamboyantly away, loudly addressing another group of teenagers, all of whom looked extremely annoyed by this.

"Do you, uh, know that guy, Michael?" Ron asked, still chuckling. "Cause he was kind of…strange."

"Yeah, I know," Michael muttered, gesturing for them to follow as he headed away from the pool, in the direction of the cabins. "But his daughter's in STRIKE. She's a kind of…"

"Moronic?" suggested Sarah.

"Yeah, that's probably a good term. But she can fight, so she has a decent job somewhere in the combat division," Michael said distractedly, coming to a stop before a cabin door. He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, which vibrated for a moment, then allowed itself to be turned. Michael opened the door and investigated the room.

It was rather small, with two beds and a refrigerator. Other than that there was a bit of furniture, but Michael had the idea that the captain was trying to encourage his patrons to spend their time out and about the ship. He had to admit, it was a nice boat, and he didn't need much persuading. He also noticed that his and Jeff's bags were sitting on the middle of each bed.

"Okay, so Jeff and I will take this one" Michael said. "And Harry and Ron can take the next one… And the girls will be in the farthest. Don't worry," he added as they glanced around the tiny room skeptically, "Its enlarged to fit three."

"Thank God," Sarah said gratefully, "But who cares about that now? Let's go do something!"

"We're here all day, and about half of tomorrow" Michael told them. "So enjoy the relaxation while you can."

"What are you planning to do with your time?" Luna asked him.

Michael grinned. "For the next day and a half, Luna, I'm doing whatever the hell I want."

"Well, we're all going to the pool," Luna said, indicating herself, Hermione, and Sarah. "Be sure not to fall off the boat, I hear there are Venomous Bitingrocks around here," she added seriously. Sarah giggled.

"What exactly is a Venomous Bitingrock?" Ron asked warily.

"Oh, they're living rocks on the seafloor" she told him patiently. "They have little beady eyes, and sharp teeth so that when you get near one they –"

"Come on, let's go change," Hermione said, grabbing Luna by the arm and steering her out of the room, Sarah following, still giggling.

Harry, Ron, and Jeff all rounded on Michael, wearing similar looks of hilarity.  
"What?" Michael said defiantly.

"Good luck with that one," Jeff said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "I think you're going to have your hands full with her."

"What are you talking about?" he asked angrily, ducking out from under Jeff's arm.

Nobody answered him, but Ron and Harry looked at each other and seemed to decide it was time to leave. "We're going to change too," they called as they escaped the room. "We'll figure out what to then."

"Shut up about her," Michael snapped at Jeff. "Don't say shit like that around me."

"What?" said Jeff, looking startled, "Nah, you've got it wrong, man. We weren't making fun of her…and she can stick up for herself anyway. I don't think she's too worried about it."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Michael said, taking a breath. "It's just she told me about all the crap she used to get as a kid at Hogwarts, and it pissed me off… Whatever, let's see what everyone else is doing."

"Great, let's go"

The left the cabin and headed for the pool. They found Harry and Ron, both wearing shorts now, standing frozen and staring openmouthed.

"What are you guys…" Michael started to ask, but trailed off into stupid stuttering as he saw what they were looking at.

Hermione, Sarah, and Luna had chosen three chairs next to each other and were lying draped out across their chairs, basking in the early morning sun. While Hermione had chosen to retain some mystery in a loose shirt and shorts, Luna had settled on a very pretty one-piece swimsuit whose hourglass shape left much of her stomach exposed. Sarah meanwhile had simply stripped down to a pink bikini, one which lacked much fabric and showed off much more than either of the other two girls. She seemed both aware of and indifferent to this fact.

Michael looked at them, glanced at the other boys, then immediately back to them.

"Hi, come over here!" Luna called, sitting up as she become aware of them. She waved them over enthusiastically, while Sarah and Hermione looked at them suspiciously.

"How long have been standing there?" Hermione asked as they plopped down into seats next to them.

"Why do you ask?" Michael asked, pulling off his shirt. "Were you doing something you wouldn't want us to see?"

"Not at all," Sarah said smoothly. Michael was actually glad Sarah was lecturing him; Ron and Harry seemed a little shell shocked. Both boys seemed to have forgotten themselves and Michael hoped no one else would notice where their eyes were firmly fixed. "But you two," she nodded to Michael and Jeff, "know how much women like to be ogled."

"I prefer the term 'intense observation'," Jeff told her.

"So… are you a stalker then?" Luna asked, apparently genuinely wanting to know.

Everyone except Jeff laughed, while he muttered, "Only on weekends. I must be good if you haven't caught me yet." At this Michael nodded to Harry and Ron, who stood up and looked menacingly down at Jeff.

"Where're we going guys? Guys?"

Together they pulled him out of his chair, and Michael holding his upper body, the other two each a leg, flung him unceremoniously into the pool, to applause from all three girls. They wiped their hands together, as if they had touched something dirty, before Harry and Ron returned to their seats, and Michael dove into the pool after Jeff.

He surfaced a few feet away from where he had gone under, looking around for his best friend. He turned and looked at the others, who all shrugged their uncertainty. Then, silent as death, Jeff rose up out of the water behind him and launched himself on top of him, pulling him under.

Sarah and Luna continued to laugh as Harry and Ron jumped in to join them, creating a surprisingly large set of waves. The girls joined them later, and they spent the next hour playing chicken. Harry and Ron alternating pairing up with Hermione, against Jeff and Sarah, and Michael and Luna.

Michael and Luna lounged against the pool wall, having been the first pair knocked out, watching the others. Michael felt good about everything that was going on. Harry was a fun and pleasant person, he reflected as he watched Sarah growing steadily more competitive and angry, but he had gotten the feeling since the first time they met that Harry just needed to _relax_. From what Harry had told him, his life didn't leave much room for fun relaxation and he was glad to see his friend unwinding. In her own way, Sarah was also unwinding.

"Sarah doesn't like to lose, does she?" Luna observed casually to Michael.

"No, no she doesn't," Michael agreed. "I don't think there was any need to call Hermione a bitch…or do that," he added as Sarah, apparently tired of struggling with the much more meek Hermione, fell forward off Jeff's shoulders, taking Hermione with her into the water. Michael felt very proud of himself for not staring.

The rest of the day, they chose to unwind by working off their excess energy on a rock wall, the volleyball court, (Jeff complaining loudly) and back to the pool in turn. Around seven an announcement called the guests to the dining hall for dinner, which was apparently the first thing Jeff didn't hate doing that day.

As they entered they magnificent banquette hall, Michael glanced around, and was impressed. There were a number of long tables, similar to the house tables at Hogwarts, and several smaller, circular ones scattered throughout the room.

Expensive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. They barely had time to take in the scene, however, as they were immediately hailed by the captain. "Mr. Jacobs!" he called to them, waving them over. "And his friends too! Please, there are some people I'd love you to meet!"

Michael reluctantly obeyed, the others following close behind, all horribly aware that they were still wearing the clothes they had worn all day, plus a shirt and shorts for the girls. As soon as they reached the captain and his group, he wrung Michael's hand enthusiastically and introduced him to what were evidently the elder members of an important pureblood family. They spoke to each other politely, then Michael and his friends excused themselves, much to the protests of the captain.

They found a small, empty table at the far side of the dining room and sat down around it. Waiters in crisp suits soon descended on them, asking for their orders. Hermione was studying her menu, looking distressed.

"This is all so expensive!" she said to Michael. "We can't make you pay for this!"

"I can" said Jeff, looking up from his menu and saying to the waiter, "Let's see… I'll have the lobster, actually two… and some of those potatoes too… and let's say, a nice steak?" The waiter nodded, looking slightly disgusted.

"What's the matter with you?" Sarah asked furiously, "How does a pig like even you fit into human clothes?"

"Hey, words hurt," Ron put in with a glance at Hermione.

"Don't worry about it," Michael said with a grin. "You didn't really think I was about to pay for all this myself, did you? Nope, we're on the company dollar."

"Oh" said Ron, looking impressed, "In that case…" He proceeded to order a meal as large as Jeff's, to a similar look from Hermione.

"And what would you like, sir?" the waiter asked, coming to Michael. Michael considered himself somewhat well traveled, yet had minor difficulties understanding the English hidden beneath the heavy French accent.

"Can I get a hamburger?" Michael asked, thumbing through the menu. He felt strangely awkward about the order.

"A hamburger?" the waiter repeated incredulously. Michael wasn't sure where the awkwardness was coming from – he certainly didn't care about his order seeming strange to the waiter. He was paying them, after all.

"Yeah, with everything. How can that possibly be harder than making lobster?" he asked with a glance at Jeff. He suddenly realized why he was regretting the burger order – he would've liked to impress Luna with something fancy.

The waiter sighed importantly, "Yes I suppose that can be arranged. One cheeseburger then?"

"Two," said Jeff immediately.

"No, three" Ron corrected him.

"Go ahead and make it four, please," Luna told him. "It's been a while since I've had a hamburger." The waiter collected their menus and disappeared into the kitchen, shaking his head disbelievingly.

After dinner, they returned to their spot beside the pool, which was now illuminated by burning tiki-torches. The sky had turned from bright blue to a cool purple, mixed with streaks of orange from the fading sun. This time of day was always Michael's favorite. It was the time most fun things happened, in addition to being, frankly, beautiful. They lounged around for a while, before Sarah started complaining.

"I'm bored," she said to the group at large, "Nothing's happening."

"Then make something happen," Jeff said indifferently.

"No, entertain me!" Sarah said defiantly.

"Oh, sure, Princess," Jeff rolled his eyes. "What, should I do a dance for you?"

"Please don't," Sarah sighed, but Jeff was already on his feet. Michael stood up too.

"Hey Luna, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She looked slightly surprised, which was saying something, but stood up and allowed him to lead her away from the others, over to the edge of the ship. Michael leaned out over the railing, not looking at her. Luna didn't press him, instead she copied his stance. They simply stood, side by side, hanging over the railing and watching the sun sink lower and lower.

"This is lovely," Luna told him, when he said nothing. "I've never been on a boat before at all. I always thought it would be fun – I'm glad I was right. I don't think it would be as much fun without you, though."

"I was thinking…" Michael said, still gazing out at the sea and not following her train of conversation, "about what you said a few weeks ago, after I showed you all my wolf form." Over the horizon, clouds were beginning to gather and the wind picked up slightly: A storm was soon coming.

"You mean after you said something about snakes," she said, nodding. "But what did I say?"

"You said you remembered that…" he said quietly, his voice nearly inaudible over the wind that was now blowing about them. "That got me thinking. If you remembered something as stupid as the little things I said when we were kids, why would it be impossible for you to remember everything?"

"You think it's possible?" Luna asked hopefully. The wind was now blowing her hair so much her face was completely hidden behind it. "You'd have to undo the magic that your General did. Do you think you can?"

"Luna, you believe so many things, can't you believe this?" he asked, turning to look at her. "I've been in the library at Hogwarts, in the Restricted Section, and I think I might have found a way to bring back at least something. I was saving that little bit of information to surprise you with."

Luna reached out and pulled her hair together with her right hand, holding it in a makeshift ponytail away from her face so she could look at him. "You think you could fix me?"

"Don't ever say that again about yourself," he said harshly, "There's nothing wrong with you, nothing to fix. Your memories are screwed up, not you."

"But I'm Looney Lovegood," she said, smiling wryly. "Everyone else seems to think there's something wrong with me…."

Michael looked terrifyingly angry now. Thunder crashed off in the distance as he spoke. "I don't think that, and neither do any of those people waiting for us back at the pool. It's your memories that need altering, not you!"

He continued to look furious and livid, then glimpsed her face, and his expression changed. "I'm sorry," he told her gently, "it's not your fault… Look, my research is almost done, but I still don't feel comfortable trying it on you. So here's what I'll do: When we all get off this island, with the Ring, everyone alive, and get back to school, I'll do a bit more studying, and then I'll see what I can do. Okay?"

"That sounds wonderful," she said. "I just wish you could do it now."

"Me too," he assured her. "But look at it this way; it will give you something to look forward to when we get back."

"That's funny" she said softly, her expression suddenly changed, her hair free of her hands, once again whipping around her, "I was going to say the same thing about doing this."

And then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her back. Memories flooded her mind, scattered, broken pictures: A small blonde girl and dark haired boy, a room filled with other children, her mother signing lullabies to her….

He deepened the kiss, not wanting to ever let her go, and she responded in kind. After one more glorious moment, they broke apart, breathing deeply. Luna licked her lips uncharacteristically sensually.

"You're welcome," she whispered.

"Thanks," Michael panted. He had _not _expected that. He made a mental note to hope for a lot more things, if they were going to start coming true. "Where exactly did you learn to do that?"

"Do what?" she asked.

"That. The reason I have to stand facing away from everyone else now," he replied, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh that," she said, glancing down at him extremely quickly, "Well, how about when you help me remember _us_, I'll tell you about _that_?"

"So that's how it's gonna be?" he asked coolly. "Fine, after you can tell me the name of the dog we used to play with, you'll tell me who taught you to do that."

"We used to play with a dog?" she asked. "Was it mine or yours?"

"I don't know, I can't seem to _remember_" he said, putting emphasis on the last word.

"All right, it's a deal" she said. "After you help me remember the name of the dog, I'll tell you a little something."

"So do we shake on it, or…?" he trailed off and she smiled, kissed him one last time, and skipped back to the pool, leaving him leaning against the railing, watching as lightning flashed in the distance, the thunderstorm rolling steadily towards them.

* * *

**AN: **I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far and having a good time reading. I wanted to take a little space at the end of this chapter to recommend a great site for anyone who loves Harry Potter fanfiction. Its harrypotterpodcast, and its a great website for anyone who has an interest in podcasts or Harry Potter. They do readings of stories and other really fun stuff, so its definitely worth a look. Enjoy!


	15. Chapter 15: Stranded

**AN: **Bit of a filler chapter, I suppose, but important nonetheless, plus I always thought the gang deserved a bit of rest around this point.

* * *

Bit of filler, to be honest, but there's some signifcant business, plus I always thought the gang deserved some rest at this point. - See more at: . ?sid=889&chapter=15#

Bit of filler, to be honest, but there's some signifcant business, plus I always thought the gang deserved some rest at this point. - See more at: . ?sid=889&chapter=15#

Bit of filler, to be honest, but there's some signifcant business, plus I always thought the gang deserved some rest at this point. - See more at: . ?sid=889#

Bit of filler, to be honest, but there's some signifcant business, plus I always thought the gang deserved some rest at this point. - See more at: . ?sid=889#

Bit of filler, to be honest, but there's some signifcant business, plus I always thought the gang deserved some rest at this point. - See more at: . ?sid=889# joined the others back at the pool a few minutes later, receiving inquiring looks from everyone, particularly Jeff and Ron. Luna had apparently not seen fit to trouble them with what had taken place between them, so he answered their looks with only a shrug. "Screw it, let's go inside," he relented after a while, once it began to rain heavily. They all agreed and headed back to their cramped cabins, deciding to get some sleep before they began their hunt for the Ring of Two the next day.

Michael and Jeff crammed themselves into their tiny room, and for the first time Michael was grateful they were only spending one day on the ship.

Michael pulled on looser, more comfortable shorts and an old shirt with the outline of a howling wolf on it and climbed into his bed. He tried to go to sleep immediately, but Jeff didn't seem ready to drift off yet.

"So… that happened."

"Shut up, I'm tired" he replied, his voice muffled by his pillow.

"No, that definitely happened" Jeff said, and Michael knew he was grinning now. "How was it?"

"You sound like a preteen girl" Michael muttered.

"What's wrong with you?" Jeff asked, lying on his side, his chin resting on his palm. Michael rolled over to look at him.

"Nothing, it's just… I don't know, forget it. The kiss was good," he added, trying to change the subject.

"I believe that," Jeff said slowly, "But what's with you, huh? Every time I bring up Luna, you get all dark and angry. I thought you were happy to be back with her?"

Michael sighed deeply before he spoke, "I just… I don't know if I did the right thing, you know? Bringing her into all this… I mean, I'm glad I told her about her mom, but now we're going on this mission, possibly walking into the most dangerous enemy we've ever faced… Jeff, what if she gets hurt, what if she dies, and it's my fault?"

Jeff said nothing, he was listening to his friend, hearing exactly what he suspected might be wrong. He let him go on, obviously unsure what to say. Michael looked at him miserably.

"It would be all my fault, and not just because I brought her into this. I'm supposed to be the leader, what if I can't take this guy on? What if he kills me, then goes after you guys? Jeff, we've never been in a situation like this before."

"Listen to me," Jeff said firmly. "You are one of the best agents in STRIKE, there's no denying it. And together, we're also the best squad. Of course it's going to be dangerous, we all knew that going in, but if we do want to survive, we have to keep our heads.

"If you fall apart on us now, we won't stand a chance, and people will get hurt. So here's what you do: Calm the fuck down. You want to keep Luna safe? Then be yourself and we'll be fine like always, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah you're right" Michael said, taking a breath, "But promise me one thing."

"Okay, what?" Jeff asked, slightly apprehensively.

"If anything happens to me, get Luna out immediately. You're second in command, so everyone will be your responsibility. If I die, you take her and run. Understand?"

"Nobody's dying!" Jeff almost yelled at him.

"Probably not!" Michael hissed back, "But if I do, I want you to make sure no one joins me! Dammit – is that so much to ask?"

"Fine," Jeff said, trying to regain his composure. "Fine. If things go south, I'll make sure she gets out safely."

"No, we're making sure everyone gets out safely," Michael shot at him.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you" Jeff said, and Michael finally understood. As long as they treated this as just another job, nothing would go wrong. If he just acted like himself, the trip would go just fine, like usual.

"So…" Jeff said eventually, "the kiss was good, huh?"

"Yeah, much better than your mom," he said sleepily, turning back over. "I'm sorry, okay? No more angsty mutterings about my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Jeff repeated.

Michael gave no further answer, finally finding peace in sleep.

He woke up the next morning, extremely sore. He guessed that this was a result of the eventful day, and its end in a tiny bed. When he stretched, his arms nearly touched both walls. Looking around, he saw that Jeff was not in the room, so he changed into more suitable clothes and left as well.

It was early morning, the sun had barely began to come up. It was peaceful and quiet, and he stood outside his cabin, gazing out at the sea, taking in the smell of the salty water. Overhead a flock of seagulls called shrilly to each other.

It was extremely pleasant, and he was not looking forward to having to leave in a few hours. He had just decided he would go to the banquet hall to find his friends, when an earsplitting scream snapped his head towards the pool.

"Michael, hurry!" It was Luna, and it sounded like she was on the other side of the cabins. He tore around the block of cabins at full speed, knocking a couple out for a morning walk to the deck. He didn't look back. Grabbing the edge of the cabin, he swung himself around to face- nothing.

Jeff, Sarah, and Luna were standing, leaning up against the side of a cabin, talking carelessly. He shouted angrily at them all.

"What the hell? I thought you were dead or something!" he yelled, mostly at Jeff.

"What?" he said, turning away from Sarah, "Nah, not at all."

"Then why the hell were you yelling?" he panted to Luna.

"Oh, we were just trying to get you up. Jeff said you were still asleep when he left earlier. It's almost time for breakfast."

"And a simple 'Get up' wouldn't have worked?" he asked, still out of breath.

"Wouldn't have been as funny," Jeff shrugged, "Come on, let's go find the three stooges."

"The other three," Michael muttered mutinously as they went together to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They found Hermione lounging in a chair by the pool, sipping a drink in a glass.

"Oh, hello," she greeted them, raising her drink as if in a toast. "Have you seen Harry or Ron?" she added.

"No, we were hoping you had," Luna told her. "You don't have any idea where they could be?"

"Oh I know exactly where they are," Hermione said, taking another sip of her drink, "They got into some kind of argument…who could do _something _the longest. I haven't seen them since," she finished sketchily, taking yet another drink.

"Ah damn it" Jeff said, hurrying off. Sarah was watching Hermione closely, and she seemed to be smelling her.

"Um, Hermione," she began, "what exactly are you drinking anyway?"

"Oh this?" she asked, gesturing with the glass, sloshing some of the liquid out. "I don't know, I was thirsty when I woke up, so I went to the fridge. I found this bottle," she said, seeming to pull the bottle out of nowhere, "and I poured it in this glass!" she finished, holding up her cup.

"You've got to be kidding me," Michael said disbelievingly, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. "Here Hermione, can I see that bottle?"

"No, it's mine!"

"Hermione," he said clearly, "if you don't give me that bottle, it's going to be empty soon. I just want to refill it."

"Oh, all right then," she said with a slight hiccup, handing him the bottle.

Michael glanced at the label, then burst out laughing. He handed it to Sarah, who moaned understanding.

"I'm impressed Hermione!" Michael exclaimed, "You're drunk before seven in the morning! That's a record even for me! I really am impressed, Luna you could learn a lot from her."

"Well, Hermione is the smartest person I know," she said fairly. "Okay, sure, why not?"

She took the bottle from Sarah's hands and drank deeply, straight from the bottle.

Michael was now beside himself with laughter, and Sarah was shaking her head, apparently amazed that the two people she didn't think were complete idiots were now racing to the bottom of a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Lighten up, Sarah!" Michael said, slapping her on the back, "Let's go see if Ron and Harry are swimming with the Bitingrocks!" She agreed, and they left Luna and Hermione, both of whom were trying a number of refilling charms on the now empty bottle.

As they walked, Sarah spoke to him, looking nervous.

"So, this is some adventure we're on, isn't it?" she said, glancing around for Jeff, Harry, and Ron. He nodded, unsure where she was going with this. "Listen… we heard you and Jeff talking last night…"

"You heard us talking?" Michael repeated, the color draining from his face.

"Well, yelling. But yes." She stopped walking and took his hand in hers, placing her other on his shoulder. "Michael, Jeff was right, you're worrying way too much. This isn't like you at all, you never used to do this."

"Things change," he said gruffly, not letting go of her hand.

"Please don't," she whispered. "No one, including Luna, wants that, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, "I know you and Jeff are right, and I'm going to chill out, alright?" And when she remained unconvinced, "Don't worry, nothing's going to happen, I've got too much to look forward to back home."

"I thought you already got that out of the way," she smirked. "Three weeks, huh? Impressive, very impressive."

"Actually, twelve years," he corrected her with a smile. He dropped her hand, and they set off again, continuing their hunt for their other friends.

They were friends, he and Sarah, and that was all. Neither had ever wanted more, and that was all it would ever be. Not that that was a bad thing.

"Hold on," Michael said after a while, "I think I hear something." They both looked around the deck, but the only people present were families beginning to wake up.

There was no sign of the other three, then – "There," Michael groaned, pointing not at anywhere on the boat, but out to a spot on the water. Sarah gasped and hurried over to the railing, staring with horror.

Jeff, Harry, and Ron were all treading water in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, looking extremely distressed. Though they couldn't tell how long they'd been there, they were about fifty yards from the boat. Michael joined Sarah at the railing and called down to them.

"Does anyone have a wand?" he yelled.

"No, it's gone!" Jeff shouted back.

Michael turned to Sarah, looking serious and purposeful. "Do you have your wand? I'm not carrying mine." She nodded. "Here trade," he said, pulling off his shirt and throwing it into Sarah's face, taking her wand from her hand.

Wand clenched tight in his hand, Michael backed up to the other end of the boat and sprinted back towards Sarah, diving off the side, plunging deep into the water below them. For several heart breaking seconds, Sarah watched with horror as the water remained still, except from where the three boys were fighting to stay above the water.

Then Michael surfaced, yards from where he had dove in, but still a considerable distance from Jeff, Harry, and Ron. He swam to them with a quick breaststroke, keeping a firm grip on Sarah's wand. He reached them, and for a few seconds they seemed to be deciding something. Sarah saw Michael point her wand down, under the water, then shout something.

For a fraction of a second, the spell didn't seem to have worked, and Sarah began to run for help. However, within moments, the water surrounding the boys began to spin and swirl, creating a small whirlpool. Instead of pulling them under however, the whirlpool, with a massive noise, shot upward in an enormous jet of water, propelling the four into the air, above the deck of the boat, almost equal to the flag flying from ship. The stream curved to an upside-down L shape, then downward again, still carrying the boys.

It crashed against the deck with a thunderous noise, causing the crew and passengers who had been watching to run in terror. The water slowly washed off the deck, over the edge, leaving the four boys lying against the floor, coughing and spitting out water, but miraculously unhurt.

Luna and Hermione came running up to them, Hermione staggering a bit, both seemed to have been sobered by the experience. Hermione rushed over to Ron, who was still lying flat on his back, sputtering water.

Michael got to his feet slowly, the scars on his chest becoming more noticeable as he bent to help Jeff and Harry, extending a hand to each. They both accepted it and allowed Michael to lift them.

"What," Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it, "what on earth happened to you?" she asked, as Ron leaned over the edge of the boat and vomited water.

"They all had a bit of a drink," Jeff told them, for Ron was in no state to talk, and Harry seemed not to want to. "But as none of these three," he gestured around at the Trio, "can hold their liquor, these two wanted to see which one was more man, and this one," he indicated Hermione, "let them. I jumped in to get them, but I lost my wand when I did."

"Here it is," Michael gasped, "I saw it floating while I was coming to you." He gave it to Jeff, who muttered, "Thanks".

Michael took control of the situation saying, "Sarah, go to me and Jeff's cabin and get a lot of Sobering Potion, it's in my bag." She nodded and hurried off. "Luna, I need you to find the captain, if he doesn't already- Never mind, go see to Ron…" he said, changing his mind as the captain came hastening to them. Luna strode over to the section of boat where Hermione was standing, patting Ron on the back as he continued to wretch.

"Mr. Jacobs!" he cried immediately, "What- how exactly… Please, explain!"

"My friends fell overboard," Michael told him shortly, wishing to keep this brief, to make sure Ron would be alright. "I leapt in after them, and I repelled us back onto the vessel. Now I'm going to see to Ron. If you'll excuse me."

He swept away from the bewildered captain, leaving Jeff to talk to him, over to where Harry and Luna had now joined Ron and Hermione. Ron was a light shade of green, but had stopped vomiting. Hermione and Luna looked immensely relieved. Harry still looked confused; Michael wondered how much he had drunk.

"Are you going to be all right?" Michael asked, bending down to be level with him. He nodded faintly.

"The water's not cold," Michael said to Sarah and Hermione, "But if he swallowed that much of it, especially salt water…We'll be able to know more once Sarah gets back.

"Speak of the devil!" he added as she sped up to them, her arms full of corked beakers of a dark green potion. She handed Harry, Ron, and Hermione one and set the remainder down, in case they needed more.

"Why do you carry so many of these on you?" she asked, then paled at the sight of Ron. "Will he be okay?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"We'll find out," Michael told her, watching him closely. "And here's your wand back."

Harry and Ron finished their potion and the empty vials slid from their limp fingers into the still rippling waters under them. Both seemed to regain some liveliness and shared a look of revulsion at what they had done.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked them quietly, dropping her potion over the edge. "It's my fault; I shouldn't have gotten that stuff out…"

"Are you kidding, Hermione?" Ron asked her, somewhat angry, though not at her. "You're blaming yourself? We were the idiots who fell off the ship, no excuses."

"Mr. Jacobs, I really need to speak to you!" the captain said pompously, shaking off Jeff. "While this is most regrettable, we have a bigger problem! I wonder if while you were taking your swim, you noticed that the Merlin was not drifting any further from you?"

"Say what now?" Michael asked quickly.

"Two of the four engines is broken, Mr. Jacobs. I'm not yet sure how this happened, but we are certainly not going anywhere."

"So, we'll have to Apparate then," Michael said tersely. "Me, Jeff, and Sarah will each take one of the others, and Luna can go herself. No problem."

"Actually, Mr. Jacobs, there is a problem," the captain said gravely. "As a security measure, to prevent people sneaking on for free, it is impossible to Apparate on or off the boat."

"Then lower the wards, just for a minute" Michael told him irritably.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Only a senior member of our company can do that, and they would be in their offices in major port towns. The closest is, ironically, the one we are headed for."

"We're _Wizards_," Harry managed at last. "Can't you fix it with magic?"

"Well, magic will make the actual act of repair much easier, yes," the captain said uneasily. "But it still requires knowledge and skill to work properly."

"And you don't have any brooms?" Michael asked, determined. "Or a Portkey lying around?"

No, I'm afraid not. I know how important your business in St. Lucia is, and I assure we are working our hardest to fix this problem, but it could take until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Michael repeated loudly. "Tomorrow!"

"Please, Mr. Jacobs, look on the bright side!" the captain said, looking scared. "You'll have more time to relax with your friends! Free of charge!" he added hastily.

"Do we look relaxed?" Jeff asked furiously from behind the captain. "Do we look thrilled at the thought?"

"Wait- wait a moment," Michael said sharply, having just realized something potentially terrible. "Are you saying that we'll be spending another night here?"

"At least one more," the captain said.

"Another night in that room?" Michael whispered, looking horrorstruck, more so than the last time he had faced Lord Voldemort.

The captain nodded meekly.

Michael opened his mouth – enough to make the captain flinch – shut it, looked at Luna, looked at Ron, shut his eyes, and then shook his head. "You are a very lucky man. I would be _slightly _more furious about possibly being delayed enough to allow a deadly enemy to beat us to the punch on a mission – slightly more infuriated – if I wasn't with people I enjoy spending time with." Luna smiled at him. Michael took the bottle from her hand and stared into its depths.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

Luna came up behind Michael, holding a drink in each hand. She touched him on the shoulder with one. He turned around and seeing who it was, accepted it with a small smile. He was sitting in a deck chair, clutching a fishing pole, which was dangling over the boundary of the ship, all the way to the water.

He had spent the last hour trying to summon enough brooms to get them to St Lucia, but had finally admitted it was beyond even him. He therefore decided that he would try to fish out some form of transportation from the sea, cursing the captain and his useless ship.

"Can I join you?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, wondering why she was here, rather than at the pool with everyone else.

Luna waved her wand and another chair zoomed across the deck, stopping inches behind her. She sat down as Michael took a drink. He raised his eyebrows at it.

"Is this non-alcoholic?" he asked her, staring at the glass as if it had offended him.

"Well yes," she said serenely, "But I thought after what happened earlier today, it might be better to take it easy…"

"Luna, it was the little kiddies that can't handle a drink, not me," Michael said smoothly. He drew out his own wand and waved it. He caught the small bottle that appeared and uncorked it, sniffing gratefully. "I suppose that's not fair – it was their first time alone with liquor. Could've been much worse."

"Is that Bourbon?" Luna asked dreamily. He nodded as he added a bit to his drink, then took a swig directly from the little bottle before vanishing it. "You mix Bourbon with Firewhiskey?"

"Really, this is Firewhiskey?" Michael asked sarcastically, taking another drink. "I couldn't tell, actually."

"Well I just thought you might not want to have to jump off the boat again," Luna replied mildly.

"Oh, I don't know. If we're on this ship much longer I might anyway!"

"But what if you got eaten by the Venomous Bitingrock?" Luna asked, sounding worried.

"I might take my chances," Michael said darkly, finishing his drink and setting it down. "By the way, you believe the Crumple Horned Snorkack is real right?"

"Of course it is!" Luna said, turning her wide eyes on him. "You believe me right? You don't think it's a lie do you?"

"Of course I do," he said calmly, "It's pretty hard not to believe in something you've seen with your own two eyes, isn't it?"

Her mouth fell open. She jumped up, knocking aside her seat. She moved much closer to him, leaving only a few inches between them; she was breathing in his face. Michael might've found this uncomfortable, had he and Luna not exchanged such pleasantries the previous evening. "You've seen one?" she whispered. "Where? What was it like? What did it sound like?"

Michael chuckled. "Let's take a walk," he said, letting go of the fishing pole and allowing it to slide into the sea, "and I'll tell you all about it."

They spent the next half hour wandering around the cruise ship, Michael describing to Luna his encounter with the legendary beast in the jungles of Brazil on a STRIKE mission. Halfway through their second lap around the vessel, an idea struck Michael, born of boredom and anger.

"Hey Luna, have you ever played disc golf?" he asked as they neared the pool. "Apparently it's the trendiest thing with Muggles our age that no one else likes."

"No. But I know how," she said. "Why, do you want to play? There's not really anywhere to…"

"Don't worry about that" Michael told her, "Just round up all the others and meet me back here, okay?"

"Okay!" she said brightly, "I'll go get my lucky gloves!"

"Lucky gloves?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, Seeker's gloves my mom gave me when I was younger!" She smiled and he ran off in the opposite direction she went.

Michael returned to the same spot ten minutes later, seven Fanged Frisbees stacked in his arms and five friends in his wake. "Grab one," he told everyone as he approached Luna. They all took one, looking wary.

"We're not killing anybody with these are we?" Jeff asked, eyebrow raised, as he took his.

"Only if they get in our way," Michael said dismissively. "Other than that everyone should be fine."

"Well in that case, mind explaining how you plan on doing this? It's a big boat, but still, no holes."

"You just have to be creative," Michael told him. "Like we'll say… That window's hole one." He flicked his wrist and sent the disc spinning at one of the cabins, where it smashed though the glass, landing on the inside. "Par is one" he said calmly as he went to collect it.

"What is he thinking?" Hermione said disbelievingly, "This is crazy, even for him. We can't just go around breaking anything we want!"

"Actually, Hermione, we're Wizards," Luna reminded her. She drew back her arm and threw the Frisbee with all her strength. "We can pretty much fix anything." Hermione's response was lost as Luna's disc flew through the window, smacking Michael on the head as he was inside finding his.

"Good throw," he said as he came out the door, holding both Frisbees and rubbing the back of his head,."But maybe not so much power next time."

They played nine holes, Michael calling them out along with the par each time, the most difficult being the brim of the sombrero one of the passengers was wearing.

This was made even more difficult that they had not bothered to announce to him what they were doing before hurling the discs at his head.

Jeff came in first, Harry behind him by one stroke, Sarah in third by a much wider gap. Ron and Hermione were simply bad, while Michael and Luna kept becoming distracted by each other. Michael had been in the lead for the first five holes, but then Sarah and Hermione started complaining about the heat, resulting in them stopping their game for a quick swim.

Unfortunately for Michael this meant Luna, Sarah, and Hermione striping down to swimsuits again, which took his mind off the game, and on to something much different. Something that he and Luna spent the next four holes doing, blindly tossing their Frisbees in the direction of the target.

Something they appeared to be enjoying doing so much, nobody, not even Jeff, had it in them to say anything about it. He and Luna took solace, however, in the fact that they still finished ahead of Ron and Hermione, who had not been engaged in any such public displays of affection.

Strangely more than a few of Luna's potshots actually made it in, or at least close. Michael raised his eyebrows at the last one.

"Those really are lucky gloves then," he observed.

"Of course," Luna said happily, "My mum brought them back from a trip she was on..." she trailed off, looking confused. "I suppose she did... If my memories are wrong, maybe I got them somewhere else..."

"If they have that much meaning to you, then it's likely your memories are at least partially right," Michael, who was watching her closely, said, "I don't think there's much reason that memory would be wrong. If you feel strongly about this, I think you should trust yourself."

"So Mum really did give these to me?" she said hopefully, wiggling her fingers and holding up her hands. "They were a gift?"

"We'll find out soon," he told her quietly, "Don't worry, we'll find out soon..."

She smiled gratefully and kissed him again, while Jeff and Harry smirked and Ron made wretching noises similar to the previous mornign. Hermione and Sarah rolled their eyes at him. Hermione prepared to make her last throw.

"So, was I right?" Michael asked as Hermione finally hit the last hole."Didn't I tell you it would be fun?"

"Yeah, but I never doubted you," Harry said, with a glance at Hermione.

"I didn't either!" Hermione said crossly, "And who says I didn't have fun? At least I beat Ron, right?"

"Shut up," he snarled at her, trying and failing once again to send the disc to its destination, "It's hard."

Michael had just stepped in to try to keep the peace, when the speakers boomed with the captain's excited and relieved voice.

_"Ladies and Gentlemen! I am pleased to say that the engines have been repaired far ahead of expectations! We will be on our way immediately and should reach Castries only a few hours behind schedule. I urge you to enjoy the remainder of your voyage!"_

Michael exhaled in relief. "Finally, I was worried that it didn't work," he muttered to Luna, who smirked back at him.

"Um… what exactly are you-" Harry began.

"Oh, well Michael and I were taking a walk earlier," Luna clarified, "and we saw the captain. Michael thought that the repairs might go a little faster if he thought we were in danger. So we transformed and made sure he noticed us."

"Wait," Harry laughed, "you intentionally let the captain believe there are wolves on his boat? In order to get us moving?"

"Of course, we have to get to that island soon if we want to beat this idiot to the ring!"

"Yeah, right" Jeff said, rolling his eyes, "You just don't want to have to sleep in that room again!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Jeff," Michael shot at him, "I forgot how much you enjoyed sharing a ten by ten foot room with me! Too bad for you."

His angry response was lost in laughter.


	16. Chapter 16: Fire and Water

The _Merlin_ made port in Castries a few hours later, and the group of teens disembarked, though reluctantly. Michael claimed he was glad to be leaving the ship and back on task, but he was fairly the others could tell he had actually been enjoying himself, and was not pleased to be back running dangers.

They stood on the dock, soaking up the city as the other passengers left the ship. As they pointed out various points of interest, Michael filled them in on the plan for their task: Finding the Ring of Four.

"It's not a huge island, and we have a rough idea where the Ring is," he told them, securing a pair of sunglasses on his face. "But we could be wrong, so in case this takes long, we have reservations at a hotel."

"Which one?" Sarah asked interestingly, also donning a pair of glasses.

"The Sixth Star," Michael told her, smiling at her reaction. "Once again, on the company Galleon."

"But the Seven Stars chain are the nicest hotels in the world!" she said excitedly. "I've never stayed at one, but they're supposed to be amazing!"

"Well if everything goes according to Michael's God-given plan, we won't be here more than a night," Jeff grumbled, though smiling at a pair of pretty girls getting off the boat.

"Are you kidding?" Michael asked incredulously, "I didn't want to stay on that boat long because we have stuff to do, but if we get the Ring today, we're staying for at least another week!"

"So let's get to it then," Harry said, rubbing his hands together. "Where do your people think the Ring is anyway?"

"Not now," Michael said quietly, glancing around at the multitudes of tourists. "Don't want to be overheard… Let's head to the hotel, I'll get a taxi…"

Within minutes two cabs pulled up to them, and they loaded their luggage into the trunks. "Let's see," Michael said, slamming the trunk shut, "How about me, Sarah, Jeff, and Luna in this one," he smacked the door of the one closest to him, "and Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the other?"

They nodded agreement and climbed into a car. "Sixth Star Hotel," Michael told the driver, who grunted and put the car in drive. It was an uncomfortable ride, Michael and Jeff sandwiched in between Luna and Sarah, inhaling smoke from the driver's cigar the entire way. Michael handed the cabbie his fare the second they arrived at the hotel, not bothering to wait for his change.

"Ride alright?" he asked Ron as the Trio scrambled out of their car, looking thankful to be in fresh air again. Ron grimaced at him, helping Hermione pull her things out of the trunk.

"Shall we go inside then?" Luna asked, gazing up at the grand hotel, "Get settled in?"

"Yeah, but before we go up to our rooms, we better check them for any kind of alcohol, you know how Hermione is…" Ron trailed off, miming drinking from a bottle with the hand that wasn't holding Hermione's suitcase.

She stomped on his foot, causing him to drop her suitcase, swear, and jump up and down on one foot, holding it as if he had been shot there. When her luggage hit the ground it split open, spilling her clothes, including underwear, into the street.

"That hurt!" Ron yelled at her. "I was only joking!"

"Pick that up!" Hermione commanded him, scrambling to shove her clothes back into her bag. "Pick it up now!" She snapped her suitcase shut, but left it on the ground for Ron to pick up.

"Hermione, you missed a bra," Luna pointed out vaguely, bending down to pick it up. "This is yours, isn't it?" She held it up for Hermione to inspect. "It's too big for me."

"Yes, thank you Luna!" she said quickly, snatching it out of the air and hastily shoving it down her shirt, for lack of any better place.

"Ron, pick up her stuff so we can go," Harry said, annoyed. Ron started to argue, but Michael pushed past him, carrying his and Luna's things, the rest of the group following behind him. Jeff grinned at Ron as they passed and gave him a thumbs up.

The doors slid open automatically and the group stepped inside, Ron bringing up the rear and grumbling angrily. Michael walked up to the reception desk and cleared his throat. The islander looked at him expectantly, apparently not wanting to make small talk.

"Um, hello. We're the Jacobs party, we have reservations for two rooms…" he told the man, who yawned, looking bored, before turning around to find the keys.

"You're up on floor three," he told Michael, "rooms three fifty-four and three fifty-five. Nice view. High end suites."

"Thank you," Michael said, taking the two card keys the receptionist held out to him. "And we'll take our own luggage, thanks," he added as a bellhop stepped forward to take their things.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked out of the corner of his mouth as they crowded into the elevator. "Something in your suitcase you don't want found?"

"Well if there was, it's not likely I'd tell you about it, is it?" Michael said as the lift began to rise. He did tip a wink at Harry.

"It had better not be porn…" Jeff said warningly.

"No, if I needed that I'd just ask your mom," Michael spat at him. "She was only too happy to oblige last time!" Harry shook his head.

"It's always his mum. Always the same joke. You need some new material mate," Harry said. "You always say stuff like that about her."

"And none of its true!" Jeff snarled, looking menacingly at Michael, "He just can't think of anything intelligent to say."

"How about… "_Hevite_!" Michael said, suddenly drawing his wand and pointing it at the baggage Jeff was carrying. They immediately dropped to the ground, pulling him down with them.

"Hey- what the hell- damn- fix it!" Jeff spluttered, struggling to lift the enormously heavy bags. Michael did nothing but smirk down at him until the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open behind him.

"Well, this is our floor," he told Jeff, who was still attempting to pick up his own bag, abandoning Sarah's. "Here. This will give you some time to remember the counter curse," he said as everyone else stepped out into the hallway. He punched the button for floor ten and watched the doors slide shut with a smile.

"To the rooms then?" he asked, turning to face the others. They set off down the long hallway, checking the numbers on the doors as they passed.

"I wish you hadn't done that Michael," Sarah said ruefully as they passed room three hundred and twenty. "That was my stuff he was carrying."

"Don't worry about it," Michael said carelessly, "It's a simple counter curse, he'll get it soon enough."

"Or he might just leave it there, for anyone to go through" Sarah said, looking worried.

"Nah that would mean leaving his own stuff" said Michael, "And he's got our last supply of Sobering Potion, there's no way he'd leave that behind."

"Fair point," Sarah said, looking more relaxed. "Ah, here we are," she added as they came to a stop in front of the room marked 354.

"Guys in fifty-five, girls in fifty-four?" Michael suggested, once again receiving nods of approval. "Okay then, we'll set up our stuff, then everyone go to our room and I'll explain exactly what we're planning to do."

"And what about bagboy?" Hermione asked, glancing down the hallway for Jeff.

"He'll make it," Michael said flippantly. "This weighs a ton" he added to Luna, who took it from him, stooping over slightly as she did. "What do you have in there?"

"Just a few things," she said vaguely. "A change of clothes, some of the delicious chicken we had at dinner last night, Gurdyroot – in case anyone wanted tea – and of course a Warding Block." Michael raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. "It _looks _just like a regular chunk of wood," Luna explained, "but it has runes carved in it to protect from the sun. It works especially well against sunburn."

Luna still caught him off guard with things like this occasionally; Michael wasn't sure he would ever be totally prepared. But this time, he was. "Great," he smiled at her. "That means you won't need to wear a shirt most of this trip, right?" Luna laughed out loud at his obvious pass and Ron cast him a look that communicated he was deeply impressed.

All three girls disappeared into their room, and Michael shrugged at Ron and Harry.

"You do think Jeff'll make it back soon, right? I mean it's only –"

"_Liten_?" Jeff asked as he staggered down the hallway towards them, looking furious. "What the hell? Who does that?"

"Me" said Michael simply, "Now go give Sarah her stuff, she nearly had a conniption when she thought you'd leave it."

"Always expects the worst, doesn't she…?" Jeff muttered as he knocked on the door and was permitted to enter.

Harry and Ron rounded on Michael.

"How did you do that?" Ron demanded.

"Do what?" Michael asked, sliding the card through the slot and turning the handle.

"He was about to go to work on you," Harry said.

"I don't know about that…" Michael said, frowning a little. "But what's your point?"

"You turned him on Sarah instead!" Ron told him. "He completely forgot he was pissed at you! Now he's going to get yelled at for getting mad at her, its genius!"

"Oh that," Michael said as Jeff knocked on the door. "Years of pissing people off teach you a great many things. You just have to practice, that's the easy part" he said, letting Jeff in.

"Practice what?" he asked, throwing his suitcase onto the unoccupied bed on the far side of the room.

"Sex," Michael lied smoothly.

"Oh," a smirk crept up on his face, "So what about you and –"

But he stopped talking immediately as there was a gentle knock on the door. Harry pulled open the door, letting Luna, Sarah, and Hermione in. They stumbled in, gazing around the room.

"We were wondering if yours was as nice as ours is," Luna said, shutting the door behind her. She walked over to one of the bed and sat down, looking up expectantly at Michael.

"And is it?" he asked.

"Oh yes, we just thought you might be trying to pass off the crappy room on us," Sarah said, sitting down next to Luna.

"Sarah, this is the Sixth Star," Michael said crossly, "If it doesn't meet your expectations, then you might as well just go marry Draco Malfoy, then you can live in his house."

"Eww!" said all three girls at once, looking horrified by the thought. Hermione shut her eyes and shook her head repeatedly, trying to remove the thought from her head. "But really, what's the plan Michael?"

"All right, everybody pay attention, I'm only going over this once," Michael said importantly, making sure everyone was sitting somewhere. He stood in the middle of the room, and stretched his hand out, towards his luggage, on the bed Harry and Ron were sitting on. The small Morgana disc zoomed into his hand. He tapped it with his wand.

"I need a map of the island."

Seemingly in reaction to his words, the little disc lit up, the flat top emitting a ghostly blue light, a orange ball of light spinning around the side of the disc . After a few seconds, it quieted and a holographic aerial view of St. Lucia burst from it, spanning about five feet either way.

"We're here," Michael said, indicating a spot on the southern tip of the island with his finger, which blinked red. "We believe the Ring to be here," he indicated another spot on the northeastern side, which blinked blue.

"Michael, I think your MD is broken," said Sarah, sounding alarmed, "because the spot it's showing is a volcano."

"No, it's working fine," Michael said calmly, "It's in the volcano all right. Or at least we think so."

"Michael, it's a volcano," Hermione said, trying to sound rational.

"Yeah," Luna put in, sounding uncharacteristically indignant, "what about all the Magmen? They eat humans alive! Are you trying to get us killed?"

"No Luna, you know full well we could fight off any number of Magmen," Michael said distractedly. Luna looked contended by that. "But maybe first I should explain how we plan to survive the volcano?" She nodded.

"Right well, I suppose technically we're not going in the volcano, but rather under it. See, there's a kind of… temple under it. No one knows who made it, maybe ancient natives, maybe the Magmen, I don't know. But there's an underwater entrance on ocean side of the volcano, and that's how we'll get in." The hologram zoomed in on the blue dot, and began blinking on a spot of water just off the beach, surrounded by large rocks. "Once inside, we'll search through the temple, find the Ring, Ron will show it what's what and we'll be on our way.

"If anything goes wrong," Michael threw a significant look to Jeff, who nodded somberly, "the only way out is through the passage we're using to enter. Head for that, whether or not you have the Ring, just get out."

"Don't you mean if _we_ have the Ring?" Luna asked, meeting his eyes.

"That's what I meant," Michael corrected himself quickly, "But it's not like it matters, what do we have to worry about?"

"Nothing we know about yet," Harry said, standing up, "When do we leave?"

"Right now, as long as that's okay with everyone" Michael said, looking around at them. "Any reason to wait?"

"Any chance of lunch before we go?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Ron, this is the Ring of Four we're talking about!" Hermione began, but Michael raised a hand to silence her.

"You're right Hermione, this is important. But if we go unprepared, things are much more likely to go wrong. We need to be completely ready to do this, and that means full stomachs too. So let's find a place to eat, but quick. I want to do this today."

"I saw a nice looking place when we drove in," said Hermione. "It would only be a couple minutes walk from here."

"Cool, we'll do that, then grab a taxi to the beach at the volcano. Everybody make sure you've got your wands, and anything else you want to bring. We won't be back until we're done."

Michael flipped a switch on his MD and returned it to his bag. He began rummaging through it, deciding what and what not to bring. Jeff copied them, which seemed to make Harry and Ron feel rather insignificant: Neither had brought more than clothes and their wands, except for Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which he quickly extracted from his bag.

The girls left and returned to their room to gather anything they had brought that might be necessary.

They ate in the restaurant Hermione had mentioned, dining on the local delicacy, which was. at least according to Michael, Jeff, Harry, and Ron, pizza. They talked and joked casually, trying to relax, to take their minds off the daunting mission that lay waiting for them. All were quite unsuccessful.

"So, everyone ready to go for a swim?" Michael asked as Jeff belched, causing Hermione and Sarah to shoot looks of disgust at him. Luna however, simply looked interested.

"I thought we had to go get the Ring?" she asked. "Or are we going to the beach first? That would be fun and a good way to relax first –"

"No, I mean we have to swim through an underwater passage to get in," Michael cut across her, "But I suppose that yes, we are going to the beach, but not for long."

Harry hailed them another cab after they left the restaurant and they got in, in the same groups as before. But this time their destination was a small shop on the eastern beach of the island. They hopped out and stretched and the cabs drove away, hunting for other customers. The massive volcano loomed in the distance, overlooking the beach and the shop they were now approaching.

"What are we doing here?" Sarah asked Michael as he held the door open for them to enter. It was a small, unimpressive store, with lines of shelves filled with snack and a couple fridges containing drinks squashed into a corner.

"Wetsuits," Michael explained, heading for the counter, behind which stood an old man who was obviously the shopkeeper. He looked foreign to the island and confirmed it when he spoke.

"Hey there kids," he said, smiling at them, revealing missing teeth. "What do ya need? I bet I got it in here some're" he said, gesturing around at the store.

"We're here for something special," Michael said, leaning forward on the counter, "A special order for the Jacobs party."

"Oh," the old man said with a look of comprehension,."You're Michael Jacobs! And is that Harry Potter with you? Not every day celebrities walk into my little ol store… But I have what they asked for, let me go get em."

He vanished into a door behind the counter and did not return for around a minute.

"Another STRIKE contact?" Hermione asked him.

"Sort of. He used to be an agent himself, when he was younger. A lot of people don't stay in STRIKE too long. But he retired and moved here, to start this little place. But he stayed in contact, so we asked for this favor."

"He was in STRIKE," Ron repeated. He looked around the store again, as if expecting to see something top secret hidden away in a corner.

"Here ya go, seven suits" the man said, emerging from the door, holding out seven rubbery suits. "Any chance you could give me a hint what you're doin?" he added in a low voice as Michael took the gear from him.

"Sorry, top secret. You know how it is."

"Just what I expected!" the man cried, grinning, "No less than what I'd 'ev expected from Michael Jacobs."

"Um, yeah, thanks," Michael said uncomfortably, passing a suit to everyone. "Well, goodbye and thank you again for the favor."

"Good luck to all of you!" he called after them, "Hope you kick their arses!" Michael smiled, knowing there was no way the old man could know the use they were going to put the suits to, but had wished them luck anyway. It was like he said: STRIKE looks after their own.

"So, why do we need these?" Hermione asked, examining her suit. "It's not a long swim, is it?"

"Well, no" he said, guiding them towards the beach, "But if you don't mind exploring an undergrounds temple in a bikini, far be it for me to tell you no."

That shut Hermione up, and they stepped onto the warm sand of the beach, which was fairly quiet, considering the time of day. Michael supposed this was due to that most people their age that would be patronizing the beach were off doing pointless things like school.

"See those rocks?" Michael said, pointing to a collection of jagged rocks at the edge of the beach, close to the volcano. "The passageway is through them, but it's about twenty feet under. Can everyone do a Bubble-Head Charm?"

"Yeah, of course we can," Harry said irritably. "We're only a year younger than you, you know?"

"Right, my bad. But actually almost two years, really. My birthday's next week, so everybody start thinking of something nice to get me." He looked purposely at Luna. "Think hard."

She smiled pleasantly, while the other girls rolled their eyes and the boys smirked at each other. "Everybody get their suits on, let's get going" Michael said, feigning obliviousness to what he had just said, or at least implied.

They pulled on their tight suits with some difficulty, feeling slightly stupid as the few people on the beach started at them. They waded out into the water, waist deep, near the boulders.

"Let's go behind the rocks," Michael muttered, "To do the Bubble-Head," he added at Ron's confused look, "We don't want any Muggles to see…."

They took refuge behind the pile, and Michael addressed them one last time.

"Okay, we'll all put on the charm, then I'll go in first and find the path. You guys keep your wands lit, it'll get dark once we get underground, and we can't afford to be blind. I don't know how long the passage is, but judging by the volcano's location, relative to us, it could easily be half a mile. So, stay on alert. You see anything; make sure everybody knows. I don't care if you have to shoot the person ahead of you in the ass, just do it. Ready?"

They all murmured yes and Michael nodded, tapping his wand to his skull, causing a clear bubble to form around his head. The others copied him and after a last, tiny moment of hesitation, then plunged into the water.

It was pleasantly warm at first, but as they swam deeper, it cooled rapidly. They stayed close to the rocks, searching for the entrance to the cavern. Heads turned constantly, beams of light from wands sweeping the area around them.

At last, Michael turned around as a dull spell hit him in the rear. Luna, who was behind him, was pointing excitedly at an opening in the rock formation. Michael gave her a quick thumbs up and swam inside.

It was tight, and because of this they had to go through single file. They scrapped up against the sharp rock wall numerous times, grazing their skin and tearing their wetsuits. It seemed to go on for nearly a mile, and after a few hundred feet, the passage sloped downward.

After nearly five minutes of nonstop swimming, Michael finally saw an opening ahead. He kicked hard, tired of the unchanging scenery. His head broke the stillness of the water as it popped out, and he looked around the cavern. He waded into shallower waters, then stepped out onto the pebbly ground inside. Luna and the others soon joined him.

"So, what now?" she asked, removing the bubble enclosing her head and shaking her head, her long hair falling into its usual unkempt state.

"We go down that dark, scary path, into a temple built by God knows who, in search of a deadly magical object," Michael drawled, pulling off his wetsuit and laying it away from the water, near the passage of which he spoke.

"And after that?" Harry asked, leaving his suit by Michael's.

"Party?" suggested Michael, raising an eyebrow.

"Perfect," said Jeff, striding down the beginning of the dim trail, not bothering to wait for the others.

"Jeff, get back here!" Sarah called to him, tossing her suit into a pile with the others and hurrying after Jeff, who did not respond.

"Well, shall we?" Michael asked the remaining four, who nodded, readying their wands. He offered his free hand to Luna.

"We shall," said Luna, taking his free hand in hers and leading the Trio down the pathway, on the lookout for traps, and any sign of Jeff and Sarah. It was darker than even the passage underwater had been, they couldn't see more than a few feet, even aided by their wands, though it was much bigger, and they were able to walk in a tight group.

"Jeff! Sarah! Where the hell did you guys go?" Michael yelled into the darkness, slowly growing worried at his friends' lack of a reappearance.

To his relief, Jeff soon shouted back, "We're up ahead! You've got to see this!" Then came Sarah's voice, "Hurry up, I think this is it!"

They did indeed hurry up, and they soon found Jeff and Sarah standing still, staring with awe at what was in front of them.

"What- what the hell is this?" Harry panted.

There was a huge archway in front of them, carved out of stone. It was strangely not the same stone that made up the cavern, but a smooth, greenish color. It seemed like a gateway, though instead of any kind of door, there was nothing but a slab of the same strange stone. The entire archway was covered in a strange writing carved into the rock.

"What is it?" Luna echoed Harry in a hushed voice. She reached out to touch it, but Michael grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

"Don't," he told her harshly. He was staring at the arch, trying to understand the mysterious markings all over it.

"Guys," Ron whispered from behind them, he sounded terrified. "Guys, I can read this."

"You can read it?" Hermione repeated loudly, her voice echoing down the passage. "But how- how can you possibly?"

"What does it say?" Michael asked sharply, ignoring Hermione's question. "Is it a warning? Instructions? What?"

"It says –" Ron swallowed. "It says that 'only one of true blood may enter this place, so say the Lacerte, eternal servants of Lord Darothril.'" He looked at them all in horror. "Darothril? Isn't that the guy I'm descended from?"

"That's him," Michael said, sparking an internal debate. "Does it say anything else? Like what are the Lacerte?"

"I don't know," Ron said, taking a step closer to the arch. "I can't read it all, just bits and pieces. But I don't see anything else about the Lacerte…."

"And what about 'one of true blood'?" Sarah asked. "Does that mean that only a pureblood can enter?"

"I don't think so" Michael said, continuing to study the markings. "I think it more likely that it means that only a descendent of Darothril, not necessarily any bloodline."

"So only Ron can go in?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"It's possible" Michael said slowly, "But rules are made to be broken…"

"Some rules can't be broken," Harry pointed out, "It took me a while to figure that out…"

"True," said Michael, "But all rules can be bent. Ron, try putting your hand on the space in the middle of that arch."

He gulped, then stepped forward and placed his palm flat against the stone, while everyone watched nervously. As soon as Ron's flesh made contact with the rock, it melted away, leaving only the outline of the archway behind.

"I think it means that Ron had to let us in," Michael said, looking relieved, "I believe any of us can go in, but Ron had to allow it first."

"So, can I move?" Ron asked, his palm still suspended in midair.

"I don't know, give it a try."

Ron tenderly retracted his hand, waiting to see if the doorway would remain open. It did, and Harry slapped Ron on the back.

"Good job mate!" he told him.

"Yeah… thanks," Ron said distractedly, staring down at the hand that he had used to open the door, as if he couldn't believe that something attached to him had done it.

"So, do we draw straws or…" Jeff asked, looking at the archway apprehensively.

"Hang on…" Luna said, striding forward and, without hesitation, stepping through the archway. She glanced around, then with a deep breath, transformed into a slender white wolf.

"What are you…?" began Harry, but Michael understood.

She turned her head in all directions, sniffing with her sensitive nostrils, on alert for any danger she might pick up on. She returned to human form, and beckoned them to her. They followed her through the arch, into what Michael had accurately described as a temple. High pillars flanked them on all sides, and there were a number of doors leading off from the room they were standing in.

"Smell anything?" Michael asked as they came up beside her. She considered the question for a moment, deciding how best to answer.

"Well, yes and no… I'm not really sure what I smelled,: she said, shaking her head. "Why don't you take a sniff, you'll see what I mean." Michael shrugged and became his usual snowy wolf, inhaling deeply, following the same movements Luna had just made. When he had regained his human face, it was troubled and nervous.

"Yeah, I understand," he said, peering into the darkness around them. "It's… not human, and it's not here right now but…"

"It's like whatever it was, it left a strong enough impression for us to scent," Luna surmised, nodding. "I think we should hurry. It reminded me of Dad's cooking."

Michael didn't answer, he simply walked ahead into the poorly lit room, and keeping his wand aimed at chest level, pulled open one of the doors. Nothing jumped out at him, and he sighed and motioned for the others to follow.

The room they entered was much larger than the last, and was filled with pews, two rows down each side of the room. There seemed to be a statue or monument of some sort at the far side of the room, raised up on a set of steps. Whatever it was, it seemed to Michael to be the object of worship to whoever built this temple.

"Michael," Sarah whispered, something in her voice making him tense up, "I – I think that's it."

"What? Where?"

"See the statue at the end of the pews? Look there, something's shining!"

Michael rushed forward, closer, closer and then he was there. He looked up at the statue he was now less than a foot from. It was of a powerful, clever looking man. He had a pointed beard, and was wearing an imposing scowl. Even in stone, his eyes seemed to pierce Michael's soul. Shaking this uncomfortable notion, Michael looked down at his outstretched hands.

He couldn't help but gasp as he saw, lying in the cup formed by the two stone palms, the Ring of Four, the legendary item once belonging to Erer Darothril. He had a guess who the statue depicted, and this confirmed it. He reached his hand out to take the Ring, but stopped, his fingers centimeters from the glinting ring. Caution had finally caught up with his excitement.

"Ron," he said, loudly and clearly. "Ron, come and get it."

"What? Me?" Ron stammered, the others having approached silently behind Michael. "I thought I just had to destroy it."

"Something doesn't seem right," Michael said, his back still to them, "I think something will happen if anyone but a Darothril tires to take it."

"But you touched the other two…" said Ron, his voice nearly a whimper. "Why wouldn't you be able to take this one?"

"Dammit Ron, I don't know!" Michael shouted at him, spinning around to face them. "I don't think anyone but you should touch it, why is that such a problem?"

"Because I won't be able to let go!" Ron yelled back at him, his voice strained and cracked. The others watched, stunned; it was the first time Michael had had any major disagreement with any of the Hogwarts Trio. "If I get a hold of that thing, I won't be able to just throw it away! It could make all my dreams come true, if I touch that thing! I can't do it…" he said, backing away quickly, looking deranged and haunted. "Just- just get it so we can go!"

Harry moved to put a hand on Ron's shoulder, as he surely understood what Ron meant, why the Ring would be so desirable. Michael, meanwhile, wanted to continue to yell at Ron, but thought better of it. He slowly turned around to face the statue again, looking into the clever, stone eyes of Erer Darothril. He made his decision.

He shut his eyes and reached into the hands of the idol, and scooped out the Ring with one hand. He took it in his left hand, and faced the group again, holding the Ring up to eye level, looking at it, entranced by it. Luna came up to join him by the statue, and for a moment they looked almost like a comical wedding; the two standing on the stone alter, Michael holding out a ring to Luna, presided over by the stone priest. Jeff would have made a smart joke, but he too was captivated by the Ring.

Michael was shaken from his awe almost immediately however, as an ear piercing scream rent the air, reverberating all around them. Michael shoved the Ring into his pocket and trained his wand on the door through which they had entered, which seemed to be the source of the noise. For a split second, the seven teens stood frozen in place, their wands aimed at the same spot on the door.

Then, with another terrible scream, the door burst open and a horde of creatures poured in, screaming and hissing. They wore dark cloaks, and their scabbed hands might have caused them to be mistaken for Dementors, were it not for their obviously running feet, and that they were not wearing hoods.

Their faces were reptilian, lizard like, with yellow eyes and razor sharp teeth which were displayed every time they unleashed one of their screams. Hovered, the feature that stuck out most was that some of them, towards the back of the advancing crowd, were carrying wands.

One of the girls screamed, and Michael, Harry, and Luna all yelled various spells.

"_Stupefy_!"

"_Bombardo_!"

"_Descarde_!"

The first spell, Harry's, knocked a few to the ground, unconscious, Luna's blasting curse hit the direct middle of the group, causing massive damage to those nearest. But it was Michael's spell that saved them. The monsters slowed down, very nearly froze, and Michael grabbed Luna by the hand and pulled her off the altar, away from the statue, and down the right side of the room, the others following, shooting spells at the nearly frozen Lacerte. They ran through the door, Ron kicking it shut and Hermione yelling, "_Coloportus_!" as they ran, sealing the door against the monsters inside.

As soon as that threat was contained, two more seemed to pop up. Not only were huge numbers of Lacerte flooding through the other two doors, but at the head of the group was a much larger creature. This one wore shining plate armor, and was obviously the leader. He held a broadsword in one hand and Michael noticed the three wands attached to his belt.

"Kill the thieves!" he hissed, the "S" at the end elongated and drawn out. They had come from the middle doorway, and the Lacerte were surrounding them on all sides, appearing from either the door on either side of them. To complicate things, the Lacerte trapped behind the door Hermione had just sealed were banging and clawing at the wood, inches from them.

"Run!" Jeff yelled, though no one needed his advice. They tore down the middle of the room, the Lacerte closing in on either side; they would soon have no way of escape. Michael and Luna skidded to a stop, directly in the middle of the screaming Lacerte.

"Go on, we'll be a second! Just go, don't worry, we have to do this!" Luna shouted at the rest of the teens, who had stopped as well, after seeing their leaders halt. Michael nodded, he seemed too tired to speak, but stared determinedly into the crowd of lizards, now feet from them.

With a last horrified look, Jeff, Sarah, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took off down the room, heading for the archway, while Michael drew in close to Luna, their back pressed up against each other.

"Luna, are your prepared to do this?" Michael whispered hoarsely to her.

"I'm ready," she said quickly.

"Now!"

Two wands flew back to their owner's pockets, and from nowhere, their empty hands were filled by the Sword of Ravenclaw in Luna's pale hand, and the Sword of Gryffindor in Michael's clenched fist. They swung in all directions, neatly cutting down the horde of advancing Lacerte.

Luna weaved in and out of the group gracefully, her blade carving a quick path through the mass of lizard-men. Michael copied her, but soon became locked in combat with the leader, his arms shaking under the weight of the being's heavy blade as he pressed down with it, trying to cut Michael down the middle.

Michael broke the lock between them and called out to Luna, who was suddenly by his side, running with him out of the room, through the archway, after their other friends. The Swords flickered as if they were holograms running low on batteries, and then vanished from their hands, immediately replaced by a Redwood wand and a wand made from the wood of a peach tree.

They sprinted through the next room, meeting more Lacerte at the archway, these also holding swords, which Michael blasted out of the way. When he yelled the curse, Michael scared himself, hearing how faint and weak his own voice was. "Luna, now!" Michael bellowed as they cleared the arch, and Luna pointed her wand up at the middle of the stone entrance and yelled again, "_Bombardo_!"

The curse blasted away at the rock, causing the ceiling above them to collapse, spilling chunks of stone down on them. Michael shoved Luna out of the way of the falling debris, just in time to see the Lacerte scrambling after them, only to have their way blocked by freshly fallen boulders. Michael took a last look at the hissing, clawing creatures, before they were completely hidden behind the rock barrier.

They hurried back down the dark cave passage, not stopping for anything. Michael and Luna found the other five waiting for them anxiously, but said nothing as they ran to them, not breaking pace. They didn't have time to grab their wetsuits, so they simply dove back into the water, screaming the Bubble-Head Charm as they did.

They swam faster than should have been possible, given their exhaustion, looking back constantly, searching for signs that they were being followed. They clawed their way through the tiny stone passage, back to the sea, back to safety.

They crashed out of the water, scrambling onto the strangely deserted beach. Six of them were immediately back on their feet, wands pointed in all directions, but Michael remained on his knees, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

"Michael!" Luna said, kneeling down beside him, "Are you okay? What happened? Why are you – Oh no!" she cried as he collapsed, face down into the sand.

"He'll be okay," Sarah said, bending down to check him."That spell he used, the one to slow all those enemies, is a special one. If I remember right, our old Professor taught it to him. It's useful, but it drains even powerful Wizards quickly. He'll be all right; he just needs time to recover."

"This is all my fault," Ron said, shaking his head, "if I had just –"

"Ron, shut up," Jeff said sharply, staring at something behind Harry.

Sarah gasped and tried to draw her wand, having sheathed it while inspecting Michael, but was knocked unconscious by a Stunning Spell from where Jeff had been gazing, horrified. Walking calmly towards them was a man in black robes – highly inappropriate for the weather, yet darkly fitting for his purpose – his wand pointed into the group, his face hidden by a hood. Harry knew exactly who this was - the assassin who had killed the STRIKE agents.

Jeff tired to curse him too, but his green jet was carelessly deflected. Snarling, Jeff fired another spell, this time at the man's feet. He jumped straight up, parting his legs, rolling on his side as he landed back on the ground, and shooting a retaliatory spell that hit Jeff directly in the face, knocking him unconscious as well. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna kept their wands pointed at the assassin, who seemed to be greatly enjoying himself, but none moved to attack. The Trio stared at the man, but Luna's eyes were on Michael.

So far he had only attacked in defense, and Harry remembered hearing Jeff's promise to Michael, to get away alive, if anything happened to him. Fighting this man seemed detrimental to their survival.

But he was not going to leave his friend, and in any case, Michael still had the Ring. He glanced at the others, silently begging for advice.

"You're Harry Potter," the man stated easily, standing no more than ten yards from them. "By the way, you won't need those," he added, and with a careless flick of his wand, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna's wands soared away from them, landing neatly in his left hand.

"What of it?" Harry shot at him, trying to sound brave.

"Oh, nothing," he chuckled, "Voldemort doesn't want me to kill you, he wants to do it himself, so you don't have to worry…yet. What I'm after is the Ring of Four, which you have so graciously retrieved for me. So please, if you would just give it to me, I'll be on my way."

"Just like that?" Harry asked, very suspicious it was a trick. "You'll take the Ring and leave us alone?"

"Well that and," he laughed darkly, "of course I have to kill Michael Jacobs. Personal matter, you know?" Luna's eyes snapped from Michael to his assailant.

"Why would you try to kill Michael?" Luna asked him loudly, her voice shaking, though her gaze remained steady.

"Because Michael tried to kill _me_," he replied, his playful tone falling away. He now sounded extremely angry, and his wand hand twitched.

"If you killed all those good people, you probably deserved it," Luna said.

The man laughed loudly, slightly hysterically. "Good people? _Good people_? Well yes, I have killed – and do enjoy killing – good people. Most of them are weak. But Michael's not one of them. You think he's a saint? Wait till he turns on you. Wait till he sacrifices you to Voldemort. Wait till he makes fun of your new, expensive shoes…but especially wait till he sacrifices you to Voldemort. That's the worst part."

"You're mad!" Hermione said disdainfully.

"Michael would never do that!" Luna said, and Harry heard more anger in her voice than he had any other time. In fact, he had almost never seen Luna nearly this angry at all. The hooded man shook his head.

"That's what I thought. Tonks said he was right to do it. Stupid bitch. I should really get around to killing her some time…ooh maybe I can get Bellatrix to help me! Big family and friends reunion. So much fun and violence! Which I use interchangeably, really. But anyway, yes, back on point, I'm going to kill your boyfriend in the most entertaining way I can. Is that okay – oh fuck you!"

He yelled with anger and fear as Luna, the beautiful, fierce, white wolf lunged at him, taking him to the ground. She snarled and snapped her teeth at him, her mouth inches from his face, barely held back by his shaking hands. He finally succeeded in kicking her off him, and they both rolled over in the sand, the wands he had stolen falling from his hands, and Luna back to human form, clutching her chest and coughing up blood.

He stood up, slashing his own wand at the Trio, growling "_Pertifucus Totalus_!" They all fell to the ground, rigid as a board, but still dreadfully aware of what was happening. "So," he said striding over to Luna, rolling her over with his foot, "so, Michael's been teaching you something then? Didn't teach you how to keep the form for long in a fight though, did he?"

When she didn't respond, he stomped his foot on her chest, causing her to cry out in pain. "I asked you a question, bitch!" he spat at her. Harry struggled pointlessly against the spell freezing him, screaming counter curses in his head, but to no avail.

"Who are you anyway?" he asked her, in a low, dangerous voice, "Michael's latest slut? Is that it, huh?" he asked in a mocking tone, rolling his boot over her repeatedly.

"No, actually," replied a voice shaking with cold fury. "She's my girlfriend, and I'm going to _kill_ you."

He removed his foot and spun around, but was far too late. Michael was on his feet again, looking weaker and yet at the same time more powerful than Harry had ever seen. Michael's slashing curse caught him across the chest, and he stumbled backwards, blood spilling from his chest, just as it had done to the person now casting it, weeks ago.

He was panting, breathing heavily, every intake of air costing him, however, he still exuded, now more than ever, that air of unshakable confidence an power.

The man pressed a hand to the wound on his chest, yet remained standing, clutching his wand with his right hand. "So that's how it is, Michael?" he screamed at Michael, who sent another curse at him, though he parried this one. "See if you can beat me when I have a chance to fight back!"

They began firing off spells at each other, with a speed Harry could hardly believe possible for anyone, let alone two injured men. At first, Harry had difficulty following the ferocious action, but soon the only color light coming from either man was green. Both were shooting to kill now. He shot another curse at Michael who ran straight at him, ducking the curse, and dropping his wand to the sand.

For a moment, Harry thought it was an accident, and was alarmed, but then a second later, the shining blade of the Sword of Gryffindor had materialized into Michael's hand and he jumped through the air at the assassin, who screamed another curse, which glanced off the blade, and threw up his arms to defend himself.

There was another horrible scream, like the noises made by the Lacerte below, as the Sword swung down, severing the man's left hand. He gabbed at his wrist with his remaining hand, and Michael drew back the sword to strike again. The assassin thrust out is good arm, open palm, at Michael, who was blasted backwards by a shock of magical energy.

He fell to the ground, the Sword sticking into the sand beside him. With a last yell of pain and fury, the assassin waved his wand, broke the Anti-Apparition Wards around them, and disappeared with a loud crack.

"Luna..." Michael muttered, using the handle of the Sword to pull himself up. He staggered over to her and fell to his knees, and at the same moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, realized they were freed from the Body Bind Curse.

Ron and Hermione stumbled over to Jeff and Sarah, while Harry walked slowly towards where Michel and Luna now lay, side by side, eyes closed, oblivious to the eerie silence that covered the sand, which slowly turned a deep shade of scarlet.

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**Thanks to everyone for the follows and favorites, it means a lot to me.**


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